Trust Vault
by PR Reload
Summary: A Collection of Harry Potter crossovers.
1. Torn HPxS

Torn

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural.

Warnings: Gore, Language, OC's, OC deaths, Child death, mentions of rape, M/M relationship, unfinished

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><p>It's a long night that just keeps getting longer. After the first time Dean begins to nod off behind the wheel he's finally had it. He does not have a death wish. Or a wish to crush his baby, either. So he pulls over at a diner and parks. Sam's already out, exhausted from their latest hunt and Dean doesn't really want to wake him up. He falls asleep there, head tipped back and legs mingled with the pedals.<p>

In the morning he thanks all that's holy that Sam and he were lucky bastards. They'll never know exactly how close they came to being the next victims of whatever's been going around town. They do get details from the diner's waitress the next morning as Dean nurses a cup of coffee and Sam tucks into his breakfast.

"That's the third one this month," She sighs heavily and leans against the counter, bleached hair pulled up in a loose bun atop her head. "Makes ten altogether,"

"Do you know any of the details?" Deans not too sure he _wants_ details but, if it's supernatural then Sam and Dean can definitely take a look, their kind of obligated to. She eyes him warily so he moves to reassure her, "My brother an I are in-between cases right now, we're private detectives," It's a lie, but he does have the - fake- documentation to prove it.

"Oh," She gets the chance to say before the bell at the door chimes and someone's coming in.

"Hey, Polly," The voice is rich honey, "Brought you today's batch of pies,"

"Pie?" It may be eight in the morning but something smells delicious and Dean must have some.

Polly just laughs and serves him a piece of cherry, fresh, he can tell because it's steaming wonderfully. The stranger gives him an amused smile and just keeps bringing in boxes of delicious pie. Sam has to talk then, because Dean just ends up in heaven with the first bite. It's the best pie he's ever had.

"So, do you have any details on the deaths?" And their very lucky that Dean retains his reflexes even in heaven because the stranger drops the box in his hand. Dean saves it but just barely. The cake inside is a little damaged but it's a duplicate so it doesn't need to be displayed.

"The Shred Victims?" Dean takes in the stiff body and the shaking hands with a slight frown.

"Know anything?" He locks his gaze with those bright green eyes and waits for an answer.

"Yeah," The man grimaces, "My landlady was the third victim. God, I miss that woman. She was such a sweetheart," He sits on the stool next to Dean and shakes his head.

"Can you tell us more about it?" Sam prods and those greens eyes shift to his brother with a cold look.

"It's not pretty," He sighs. "It started two months ago, I think," He looks to Polly, the waitress who nods, "The first victim was a little girl, Jenna Wright. She was found in her backyard cut to ribbons, except for her face. There was a missing chunk of her neck, like it'd been bitten or torn off. And the rest of her was just a gory, bloody mess. She'd bled to death, clawed and strung up not fifteen feet from her home and safety." The man sighs and it's like watching the weight of the world land on his shoulders.

"Second was Bret Carter, just entered high school, top of his class. Good looking enough to start dating, none of the teenage awkwardness. He washed ashore near the boat house three days after his disappearance. Torn up. Chunk of neck missing. Nothing but the face was recognizable. Except this time his stomach had been pulled open. They had to dredge the lake to find his organs."

"Third was Camilla Vale, sweet old woman. Three kids, ten grandkids, loving family, deceased husband. She was the best grandmother, probably the best mother too. Teddy loved her," There was real pain there, "Just like Aunt Andy. I was brining home the groceries and just picked up Teddy. She was sitting in her favorite chair in the parlor. Shredded. Chunk of throat missing. I still have nightmares about that. It could have been my Teddy. I almost left him there instead of dropping him off at Georgie's while I work," Dean wasn't exactly sure who Teddy was but, he was obviously important.

"Tim Hall, bus stop, shredded, missing chunk of his neck. Samantha King, preschool, shredded, missing chunk of her neck. Dorthy LaRouge, car, shredded, missing chunk of her neck. Just the same in every victim, never the same location. Last night it was Brian Alesworth, in the park."

Dean turned to look worriedly at Sam who was making a face.

"Sounds nasty," Dean muttered, polishing off his slice of delicious pie that didn't quite make his stomach stop rolling at the thought of such gruesome deaths.

"It is, but the local law enforcement hasn't gotten any leads," Polly sighed with a frown, "Maybe you boys coming into town will be a good thing,"

"Oh, you're federal then?" The man tilted his head at them.

"P.I.'s" Polly answered for them.

"Well, I wish you luck," The man smiled grimly at them, "Hopefully you'll catch the piece of shite that's terrorizing this town,"

"Wait, can we get your number, in case we need to contact you again," Sam pulled a pen from his pocket and slid a napkin over.

"Sure," He scrawled his name and number down before sliding it closer to Dean and waving to Polly. "I'll see you with Thursday's baked goods, Polly,"

Not thirty seconds after the man, Harry Potter by the scrawl on the napkin, left, Polly sighed with a shake of her head.

"Poor man," Sam looked at her with curiosity so she continued, "Potter moved here about four months before the attacks started he'd just opened his bakery. Came under a lot of fire when everything started. It doesn't help that a lot of the victims were frequents to his shop or people around him."

"Obviously you don't suspect him though," Sam observed.

"No," She shook her head and handed over their bill, "He's a good sort, and his kid, Teddy, is such a dear. The poor boy's been traumatized since the first attack." The targets, in other words, Dean glanced towards the door through Harry was long gone. Obviously there was more to it than what was being said.

XxXxXxx HPxS xxXxXxX

"Teddy!" Harry skid to a stop as he reached the clearing.

"Harry, christ, you can't just run ahead like that -" Dean stopped when he realized Harry wasn't paying attention to him.

"Hello, Harry," The man was standing in the middle of the tall grass, rugged and wild looking. Eyes focused solely on Harry. But, Harry wasn't really looking at him. He was looking at the man's hands. Hands that were wrapped around young Teddy's throat.

"Greyback," Harry snarled,

"Who?" Sam threw a look at Dean who shrugged in reply.

"You do remember me," The man smiled widely, flashing sharp, inhuman canines.

"Let go of Teddy," Harry started forward only to come up short as Greyback's hands tightened and Teddy began struggling.

"Ah, ah, ah," Greyback chuckled, loosening his grip a little, "I haven't told you why I'm here,"

Harry snarled at the man, shifting lightly and bending his knees like waiting to attack.

"Start talking,"

"You always were fierce, very…_passionate_," Greybeard didn't so much say as molest. When Harry didn't so much as twitch he continued on, "I remember very well why you struggled so much, always trying to get back to little Teddy here. So I thought to myself, why not. After the last time it was obvious that even sedatives wouldn't hold you for long. So here I am." He squeezed Teddy's throat for emphasis, "Obviously I failed the last few times I tried to get ahold of him, but It was only a matter of time,"

"Let him go, Greyback, or I'll enjoy ripping you to pieces," Harry was growling now, furious and worried.

"Thats where my latest idea comes in," Greyback smirked viciously. "I let him go, he gets sent to wherever and you, stay with me. Little Teddy gets to live and I never hunt him again.

"You're sick-" Harry started.

"I could always snap his neck now," The grip tightened again and cold shock washed through Harry.

"NO!" Harry put his hands up in defeat. "I'll go, just, just give him back,"

Greyback smiled in victory. "Send over one of your little humans to get him, and you stay where you are until their gone,"

Dean looked at Harry who pushed him forward. While Dean gingerly took Teddy from the wild man and began backing up Teddy began screaming.

"No! No, Dad you can't," Teddy struggled in Deans arms.

"It's okay, Teddy," Harry soothed, reaching for the child. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay. I'll see you soon," Harry pressed a kiss to Teddy's crown before pulling away and looking harshly to Dean.

"Take care of him," Harry demanded quietly, "Please,"

Dean nodded. He didn't know what to do with a kid, but they could take Teddy to Bobby if Harry didn't show up within a week or two. He could do that at least. Dean took one last look at Harry before they lost sight of the little clearing. Harry was staring silently after them, face set in determined sadness.

XxXxX

It took nine days for Harry to get back to town. He looked a lot worse off than they'd hoped for but, the fact he came back at all was a blessing.

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><p>AN: So I started writing this, but it got away from me. Initially Teddy was going to reveal to the Winchesters that Harry and he weren't human. Harry would talk them out of killing them, then Fenrir would come into the picture. It didn't work like that but, whatev. This might be rewritten later, but it might not. idk. Depends on my fickle muse who has decided just recently to sometimes come back from the dead.<p> 


	2. Treasure HPxPC

**Treasure**

_Chapter 1: Sleeping in Distant Memories_

AN:2.6.13: Moving this into the Trust Vault. There will be no continuation of the story.

AN: First stab at a POTC/HP cross over. I actually like these...as weird as it seems. Never thought pirates and wizards would work before I read 'A Different Type of War' by MaskedNightmare, it's Harry/Norrington. Although I'm not big on Voldemort being in it. He just seemed to ruin the fun. But it was really good. Highly recommend it to anyone who hasn't read it yet. Also 'A Pirates Life for Me' by Skye-Chan 12 is really good, it's Harry/Jack. And I'm dying for it to be updated.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or POTC. They belong to JK Rowling and Disney, respectively.

Warning: m/m pairing, language...all the fun stuff.

It was a dark, brooding kind of night off the coast of one of the southern Andros Islands. The kinds that make you want to sit in the dark, drink hard liquor and think about nothing. Because if you think too much, you'll lose your mind. Luckily, the winds weren't too bad, and the weather wasn't stormy. But he could hear it. The crashing sound of waves on cliff rock that made him a little antsy. They'd sailed around the breadth of the island and seen nothing but cliff face. So it was scale, or nothing. But he couldn't leave. Not now when he was so close. The ultimate treasure to be found and taken. He looked back down at the old scripture.

_There was a sorcerer who's power_

_could raze the Earth and desiccate water._

_After defeating his ancient contestant,_

_he cast a wake-less enchantment._

_Sentencing himself to an age-less slumber_

_on an island with no refer._

_Until the day his lips be kissed,_

_his slumber forever shall persist._

_And the one who wakes his sleeping ire,_

_will hold the power of the world entire._

_For bound to them, the wizard be,_

_until three words set him free._

To wake this sleeping wizard, with a single kiss. It was easier than breathing for Captain Jack Sparrow. And he was almost there. One night in stormy weather, a long climb up the cliff, finding said sleeping wizard, and then he would be the most fearsome pirate in the Caribbean. Because who wouldn't want to control the power of a sorcerer? Jack glanced outside his quarters and sighed, leaning back in his chair with his boots on his desk. He smirked to himself and set his hat over his face. He wasn't bothered with kissing another man. He'd had to do it before, tomorrow wouldn't be any different.

The cliffs were steep, and practically glass smooth. They were constantly pounded by the sea water, and the churning, choppy waves were not helping Jack scale the cliffs. Not one bit. He grit his teeth and pushed onward. Just a few more pulls on the rope and he'd be on favorable footing. Above him he could see pieces of the cliff that hadn't been sanded smooth by the waves and winds. There were crevices and ledges and what looked like a large crawlspace. Jack pulled himself up to the good rock-face, setting his feet into the spaces he could reach, and finding holds with his hands.

He could here Gibbs in the long boat below him, cursing loudly at the waves that jumbled him around. Jack hauled himself up, heading for that large crawlspace that now seemed to be a cave of some kind. After a few minutes he climbed inside, falling face first over the three inch ledge and into a dimly lit room. It was shadowed deeply, lit only by the meager amount of sun that managed to slip through the clouds and in through the window, now that he looked at it. He had landed in a smoothly carved out room with no other entrance or exit. There was a simple set of chairs sitting at a table, several bookcases with thousands of books, a set of glass bottles and other knick-knacks. But, the most confusing thing, was the lack of dust. All hidden treasure collected dust. Jack's eyes roamed around the room again and locked with the small figure on a very common-place bed. Something he found unusual for a sorcerer. He walked over to the edge of the bed and looked down at the sleeping figure.

Jack was stunned by the figure he beheld. Pale skin that glowed in the darkness, never before kissed by the ocean's sweet sun. Hair like deep ink wells that flowed like yards of silk across the pillows. High cheekbones, sharp chin, lips that put the deepest red rose to shame, and a nose that tilted up at the tip like the old time fey. Lean limbs clad in deep maroon cotton under a black vest, trousers the shade of moonless night. The man, Jack barely managed to remember from the scripture, was stunning. And he managed to shake himself from his awe to remember what he had to do. _Kissing this creature will be one of the pleasantries in life_, Jack figured with a smirk. He leaned over, supporting himself with his arms, and placed a gentle kiss on the wizard's lips. Then, Jack was startled by the emerald gems that shot open to meet him.

Harry's eyes flew open at the faint press of lips against his own. His magic ached for touch, and he grimly remembered the downside of the spell he'd cast, his eyes fluttering closed again

.

_Eternal sleep until you wake,_

_and then the waker's touch to take._

_Magic fueled by hearts desire,_

_only then, grow, the power's fire._

He barely registered his stiff arms wrapping around his waker's neck, twisting to the side and pulling them along until he was dominating the kiss. The contact built his core. Fixing bridges he'd torn down to work the spell, storing power to use. He pulled away and sighed, laying on his waker's chest, absorbing the energy he needed. The heart that poured from the contact felt good on his aching muscles. Years of sleep, while good to rest his mind, had not favored his body. He felt soar and stiff and his bones wanted to crack. Reluctantly he sat up, stretching like a cat and finally took a good look at his waker.

The man was broad, and well muscled. A worker, that was good. His deep brown eyed, lined with a thick layer of kohl, were watching Harry with a mix of amusement and shock. His forehead was covered by a scarlet bandana, his matted dark brown hair spilling from under it, several strands close to his face were braided and beaded. His shirt was creamy and left open to show his bare chest. He wore a navy blue long vest and a thick belt with an odd assortment of cloth and gadgets that Harry had never seen before. All of this over brown trousers and a sturdy set of leather boots. But, what intrigued Harry most, was the charming mustache and goatee. And Harry couldn't help but give a faint smile and tug on one of the braids childishly. He was never to know this, but Jack thought it endearing.

"Well, then," The man beside him said, sitting up. "That was interesting," Harry gazed at the man sideways and raised an eyebrow. "Now that the waking's been done, introductions are in order! I," The man gave a flourish and a short bow, "Am Captain Jack Sparrow. And you are?"

"Harry Potter," Harry gave a polite nod and got off the bed and wandered over to his table, summoning up a plate of toast and a glass of sherry. All the while, wondering what possessed the man to seek him out, kiss him and wake him up. "I didn't think anyone would be as insane as me and climb the cliff. It's the only way in, you know. So, Captain Jack Sparrow, what is it you wish of me?" Harry turned on Jack.

"Don't be upset, love," Jack climbed off the bed and strode to Harry's side.

"No one finds me for no reason," Harry lifted an intimidating eyebrow and took a nibble of his toast.

"Well, there is a reason," Jack shrugged. He paused and looked around for a moment, before finding what he was searching for and picking it up. The little triangle shaped leather hat was...odd, in Harry's opinion, but fit Jack to a T.

"And?" Harry prodded.

"I want immortality,"Jack shrugged. Harry practically choked on his sherry before eying the man like he was crazy and then cracking a very unfriendly smirk.

"Immortality is impossible for me to give," Harry said simply, watching the man visibly deflate. "But, now that you've woken me, you won't die until I do. Which will take several hundred years, at least." Jack seemed to bounce back like a stubborn child.

"Excellent!" Harry watched as the man bent over the edge of the window and called down to someone. The words, lost to him. Harry gave a weary sigh and flicked his hands over his books and potions supplies, they shrunk and worked their way into his trunk. With a good look at his home for the last...however many years it had been, he shrunk his trunk and stuck it in his vest pocket. Turning back to Jack he gave the man a small smile.

"All ready to go," Jack stared at him and then gave a dashing, toothy grin.

"Alright, love," Harry joined the man by the window and looked out at the scene. He assumed Jack's ship was the large black shape anchored in the rough water below them, and the man he'd been calling down to was the one in the dingy attached to the rope that led up the cliff wall.

"You," Harry drawled, turning to Jack, "Are insane." Harry himself had used his own magic to get himself up that cliff, and no amount of pressure was ever going to get him to climb it. Ever. Jack's grin just widened.

"So, how do we go about getting down?" Harry questioned.

"Why, we climb, of course,"

"Climb down?" Harry squeaked and looked down to the tiny dot that was the man in the dingy. Jack laughed. It was a nice laugh, deep and throaty. Full of vitality and charm.

"No way in hell's seventh circle am I climbing," Harry shook his head.

"Alright, I'll carry you then," Jack shrugged.

"Can't we use magic?" Jack paused, confusion rippling across his face before he grinned again.

"I suppose you could,"

"Excellent, I'll need more energy then," Harry looked at Jack expectantly.

"How do you get that?"

"Oh, god. Didn't you read the spell?" Harry gaped at Jack.

"Sorry, love, all I got was a bit o' wording like," Jack produced the scrap of paper he'd procured and handed it to the wizard.

"Shite!" Harry grumbled, stuffing the paper back into Jack's pocket after reading the passage.

"You could just explain it,"

"Yes, but this makes things...difficult," Harry glowered.

"How so?"

"Well, for one, you aren't attracted to men." Jack raised an eyebrow. "The spell I used. When I was woken by you, my magic now responds to your touch. Yours alone. No one else can refuel my magical core. I don't even know if it will refuel naturally, with sleep, anymore. That's what your passage means when it says _'The one who wakes his sleeping ire, will hold the power of the world entire,'_. Physical contact with you is the only way I can fuel my magic. So to get us out of here with magic I need you to touch me for awhile."

"Ah," Jack nodded, understanding crossing his features. "Come here," Jack beckoned, as if to a timid, stray. Harry approached, wondering what Jack would do. All that he required was a hand to hold for several minutes. Though certain contacts did restore more of his power than others. Holding hands was the slowest, basic form. And Harry really didn't want to know what the fastest way was. Jack grasped his hand and tugged him into a tight embrace. Harry felt his blood rush and heat soak into his body. He sighed and closed his eyes. The rush of magic was like the lull of Mozart, beauty and peace. Safety and deliciously sweet. And then Jack kissed him.

Nothing compared to the rush of energy that accompanied that kiss. It was the humming of bees and the lull of a swelled spring river. The feel of wind through grass and the sound of rock fall. It was the crash of waves and the frantic scrambling of pathless ants. It was all this and it was none of it. And it left Harry moaning and longing. Jack pulled away to breath and Harry panted for air, feeling his cheeks blush. But, he felt the hum of his core as it swirled with a third of it's full capacity. He smiled and turned to the wall. He climbed onto the window sill and _pulled_. The ocean swelled and built, until it was level with the window, and a very confused man in a long boat was staring at him.

The man crossed himself as Harry stepped out onto the water, beckoning for Jack to hold his hand and follow. The man's well worked hands encased his own, but he tried to ignore the pleasant tingle that accompanied the touch. Jack was thoroughly enjoying walking on water, and Harry found himself enjoying showing off his talent to the man. It felt...right, somehow. Jack and Harry climbed into the long boat with the man and Harry set about moving the boat back towards the large black ship.

"That's my lovely girl," Jack sighed, "The Black Pearl,"

Harry thought it a fitting name. He pushed them towards the anchored ship and let them drift the last few feet towards the boat. Before the ladder was tossed down Jack introduced Harry to Mr. Gibbs, the superstitious man from the boat. Harry just smiled at him and offered a friendly hand.

After being introduced to the men that crewed the ship Harry was shown to Jack's quarters and allowed a bit of peace as Jack went about with his work. The captain's quarters were awful. Empty bottles of liquor lay everywhere, piles of clothing strewn out amidst the chaos of papers and maps, books were shoved into corners and spilling off the table. Harry let out a frustrated sigh and got about his work. Halfway through he left the room to find Jack, who was standing at the wheel, correcting their course.

"I need a bit of a recharge," Harry said sheepishly, holding out his hand. Jack smiled at him and pulled him close. Kissing him for the third time that day. Jack ended the kiss, but left his arm wrapped around Harry's waist. Harry just avoided looking at him and kept his gaze towards the sea.

"You know, I don't know anything about you," Harry finally spoke up.

"All in good time, love," Jack sent him a wicked smirk. "That about do it?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry pulled away and trotted back down the steps and into the captain's quarters to finish his work. Several cleaning spells later and the cabin looked almost new. He was rather proud of his work. With a grin he pulled out his trunk and tapped it with his fingers. It grew to it's original size and then morphed into a fine looking mahogany dresser full of miniature items. He secured the piece to the floor in the corner and did the same to the rest of the furniture in the room. He really didn't want anything to fall on him in the middle of a storm.

Harry glanced around at his handy work, smiling to himself. The desk was tidy, with maps and papers filed nicely or hung on the walls. All of Jack's dirty clothes were in a basket that he would wash tomorrow. The empty bottles were shrunk and placed in one of Harry's dresser drawers. And the full bottles of rum were laying nicely in a liquor cabinet he'd fixed to the wall near Jack's bed. He rather doubted the man would have climbed his cliff if he hadn't been half drunk. But, he'd never know for sure.

Jack handed over possession of the wheel to Gibbs for the evening and descended the stairs with slightly aching arms. He hadn't had a good climb like that for a few months at least. _But,_ He thought to himself, _it was definitely worth the work._ Jack thought back to Harry's sauntering trot after he'd asked to be recharged. It was cruel fate that made Jack's curiosity rise to another of his gender. But, only cruel to the woman he had courted in the past. As he opened his door to get some sleep he saw why Harry had needed the recharge. His cabin was nothing like the mess he'd left it in this morning. And he was slightly embarrassed that Harry had had to clean it up while he'd never put so much effort into it. Entering the cabin he saw the wizard sitting on his bed, reading a thick tome that Jack guessed held knowledge of the sorcerer's magic. Jack crossed the room, noticed that the man was completely engrossed in his reading, and smirked to himself. He came up behind the wizard and leaned in close to the man's ear.

"Good evening Harry," He purred into the shell of Harry's ear. Harry jumped, whirling on Jack and whacking him in the side of the head with his book.

"Do _not_ sneak up on me," Harry hissed, lightning flashing in his eyes before he dropped the book with a sigh and grabbed Jack's aching head. "I could end up really hurting you," Jack felt soft warmth flow through his skull as the aching subsided rapidly. Jack threw him an enchanting smile.

"Can't hurt me much, love," He pulled the other man's hands from his skull.

"Oh, trust me, I can do much more than whack you with a book," Harry grimaced, looking away.

"I don't doubt it," Jack shrugged, "But, let's just get some sleep." Harry's face reddened considerably, and Jack was not surprised to find he liked it there.

"Would it be alright for me to – to sleep in your arms?" Harry had to take a deep breath in between. "I know it's sudden, but I think if I start out with a full core I'll function better tomorrow. The spell says my magic will build up over time so I won't need to constantly touch you all the time. It's just a temporary thing,"

"No worries, love," Jack kicked off his shoes, pulling off his belt and effects and tossing his hat onto his desk. He crawled onto the bed and lay down, opening his arms for Harry to lay inside them. He wrapped his arms around the intriguing sorcerer and smiled as his face buried slightly into smooth black hair.

"Are you going to tell me a bit about yourself now?" Harry pondered, looking up at Jack.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Jack laughed at Harry's answer but supplied some information. Harry was a bit annoyed to learn that he now worked with pirates, but was placated when Jack told him that they didn't pillage, plunder and rape, like most others. He was more interested in exploration and treasure.

"So you came after me?"

"Of course, you are the most incredible treasure I've encountered yet." Harry snorted a laugh and then listened to Jack talk about William Turner and Elizabeth Swann. He was slightly impressed by the sheer amount of idiocy that stemmed from the couples communication problem, but something seemed to bother him, though Jack didn't know what. In the end he settled for hugging the man tighter to him and asking a few questions of his own. It turned out that Harry was in his late teens, almost twenty, add to that the years he'd been sleeping, and he guessed he was over two hundred. Jack talked until Harry's eyes began to droop, and he let the boy drift to sleep in his arms.

While Jack watched the boy dream his brain got a crazy, improbable but completely possible idea. And so, he started to plot.


	3. A Choice of Words HPxRH

AN:2.6.13: Moving this into the Trust Vault.

**A Choice of Words**

AN: This is just a one shot, I just thought it'd be interesting. And before you say it, I know, I'm officially obsessed with Harry Potter and I really need to stop coming up with new stories every other day. They're fun, but my fic list is so long...and I've officially hit the doc. limit...

But, Enjoy anyway!

AN2: Okay, there's also some Sorcerer's Aprentice stuff. Harry/Robbie needed a magic teacher, Gandalf doesn't exist, Dumbledore's a bastard and Merlin scares me...so Balthazar it is. And if anyone can guess where and who Balthazar's nickname for Robbie comes from you may request a story/pairing/scenario. I'll write it. :)

Warning: m/m pairing, altered time-line, time travel, Sheriff bashing, and language. Possible ooc-ness, and FLUFF (great big fluffy fluff)

**Godrick's Hollow, England, October 31, 1980**

All Hallow's Eve was tainted. It was colder than normal, and the wind brewed like the herald of a storm. The night settled like a hush over the Potter household, a breath being held in waiting. The squeal of their un-oiled front gate heralded a strong breeze...or an intruder. James looked out their front window and blanched. He knew what was coming. If only they could hide their son. He rushed Lilly up the stairs and then positioned himself in the entrance. He would fight. And hopefully, Harry would get away. His last thoughts were of his wife and their child, and a future he hoped would come.

Lilly ran up the stairs as her husband bid, running to grab Harry before they got here. If she could just get him out. Make him safe. Get him away. _Hide_. She reached the top step as the front door burst open. She never heard the killing curse hit her husband, she ran. Heavy footsteps followed after her. They were up the steps, she opened the door to Harry's room and made her way to the crib. Harry was wide awake, looking up with the natural baby blue eyes. She smiled down at him but heard the footsteps get closer. There was no time. She wheeled, drawing her wand, and faced the intruder. The man in the doorway laughed wickedly and threw his spell. Her dying scream rung in the air.

"Harry!" Her limp corpse fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

The man stepped over the woman's body, his shoes hitting the wooden flooring with heavy thuds. The little boy, the prophetic child, stared up at him with large baby blues. He aimed his wand and grinned wickedly. After tonight, no one would stand in his way. After tonight, he would be the greatest Dark Lord of all time. And no one could stop him now.

"Avida Kadavre," He took a mental step back as the words slipped his lips. These were not the words he was trying to utter. This would not kill the boy. In fact, he didn't know what it _would_ do. The spell glowed green and shot from his wand, it was too late to take it back. With an anguished cry he felt himself ripping to shreds as the spell struck the boy in the forehead. He watched as the child faded away, his once blue eyes glowing sickly green with the spell. Voldemort reached out with his mind and brushed his fingers over one of his horcrux's. But he couldn't grab it. The pain was unbearable. He was sucked back inside of himself and died. His lifeless corpse falling grotesquely next to the dead woman on the floor. His body was laced with thick, brutal scars that bled black onto the ground, and his empty eyes stared out at a vastness no one knew.

This was how the Dark Lord died. Defeated by a child of three months. When the auror's arrived they were horrified by the emaciated, bloodless corpse of the dead man. He was as ugly in death as his soul was in life. But, however hard they searched for the child, no one could find him. Weeping with despair at the loss of his friends and his godchild, Sirius Black left England with Remus Lupin at his heels. They were devastated by the loss. Peter Petigrew was apprehended at the scene and discovered as the snitch who sold out James and Lilly Potter. He was sent to Azkaban and was never heard from again.

The wizarding world mourned for them and the loss of the child, who would have been the greatest wizard of their time.

**Nottingham, England: October, 1190**

Marian sighed heavily as she stared out at the gray skies and the rain. It had been one year since Robert had left for the war. One bloody year. She was grateful to Walter Locksley's kindness and his offers to take her to London, but she loved this countryside and this land. It was her favorite place, and she couldn't just leave it. The rolling sound of thunder passed overhead and lightning cracked. She vaguely imagined that a large flash of lightning had hit the house and was tinted with a fascinatingly green color. It was strange. And then she heard the crying wail of a child. She spun, her eyes searching for the crying babe and falling on the source.

The child could not have been over three months old, with a thick patch of black hair and delicate pale skin. It was sitting on her bed and wailing, giant sobbing tears cascading over it's chubby cheeks. She bit back her shock at finding the child in her own bed, of all the oddest things, and rushed to the baby's side.

"Shh, shh," She crooned, picking up the child and rocking it in her arms tenderly. If she had gotten pregnant within the week Robert had been here, she imagined their child would look much like this baby boy. She cooed at it until it's wailing became a faint sniffle and it's eyes opened to reveal unnaturally gleaming green orbs. She gazed at them, transfixed, and smiled sweetly. If only this was her child. _Where did he come from?_ She wondered to herself, looking at the babe's strange outfit. It looked nothing like proper baby clothes. She scrunched up her nose and set the babe on her hip, wondering around her room until she found her engagement chest. It held all of her old baby's clothing and other miscellaneous things she might have needed to care for her new family. She pulled out one of her old night shirts and proceeded to dress the little boy. It took awhile to figure out the strange, thick material the baby was wearing as trousers, but she got them off and replaced the strange garments with the night gown.

The baby just stared up at her with it's gorgeous green eyes and smiled. She stared down at him lovingly.

"There, now," She crooned, picking the baby back up and carrying him down the stairs to find Lord Walter and confer on what to be done. If only this cute little boy was hers. She knew for a fact that none of her staff had any recent births, not within the last three months. And she was curious as to how the child managed to appear in her bedroom. She gave the babe a sidelong glance and smiled. It didn't matter. If she could, she would keep him. And he could be her child, if only in spirit.

"Walter," She called from the stairs when she saw him sitting by the fireplace.

"Yes, Marian," The old man looked up from his thoughts and squinted as she approached. The poor man was going blind, but he could still see. "What do you have there?"

"I found him," She said softly, handing the child over to the old man carefully.

"Found him?"

"Yes, in my bed chamber, he just...appeared," She frowned at how ridiculous she sounded.

"Oh, what beautiful eyes he has," Walter smiled down at the little boy in his hands. The baby giggled and reached up with his hands to Lord Walter.

"I – I would like to keep him." She whispered softly. Walter looked up at her with a sad smile.

"He does look a bit like my Robert, doesn't he?" The man smiled. "Perhaps we shall say he is your son then," Walter handed the child back to her, smiling as the boy grabbed his nose.

"He's about three months old, the time does fit," She hesitated.

"Yes, it does," the man nodded, "Almost like an act of God," Marian smiled and held the child close to her.

"What shall we name him?" She asked.

"Well, a wife, pining for her husbands safe return might name their child after him," Walter said softly.

"Robert, then," Marian stroked the babe's hair fondly. "Robert Walter Locksley,"

**Nottingham, England 1196**

Young Robert Locksley slept peacefully beneath his mothers careful loving eyes, she watched as his breast rose and fell in the pattern of deep slumber. Six years had passed since she'd found him on that stormy night. Six years of tender care and nurturing that gave her peace of mind and a will to fight for what she needed for her son to live. The taxes were getting harder to pay, and she wasn't sure how long Walter had before his eyesight failed completely. If only there was one more miracle to be given. Another blessing equal to her little son. Robert mumbled something in his sleep and turned over, wrapping his blankets closer about his neck. She smoothed a stray lock of hair from his brow and kissed the odd scar upon his forehead.

Cruel twas Fate that marred her son's face with a scar. Marian pulled her hand from young Robert's face and retreated from the room, sparing a last glance at her sleeping son.

"Sleep well, dear," She whispered into the darkened chamber. And then she shut the door.

Robert was dreaming. Dreaming of a distant shore. There was blood and pain, and men who wore metal. He didn't understand what they were doing. And the dream wasn't scary. It was surreal, as if he'd been there before but, had been pulled from his own eyes to view the bigger picture. He watched men fight, and die and live. Winning, losing, it was a constant struggle. And yet he watched. Someone approached him, and this man was also disconnected from the scene of warfare and strife. He was tall, a full grown man, with a young face and tawny skin. Robert turned to face him fully and appraised the man with interest. He was much older than he seemed, was the distinct feeling Robert got as he eyed the man's wary stance. There was a thin layer of stubble across the man's jaw and chin. His thick eyebrows shadowed his clear blue eyes and made it slightly harder to read the man's face.

"Do you know who I am?" The man asked, his voice seemed hopeful and guarded.

"Are you one of Merlin's Apprentices?" The words left his mouth before he could think about it. "Where did that come from," He frowned to himself.

"I am. Do you know my name?"

"Balthazar," Again, the words just came to him.

"Good," The man nodded and looked him over. "You are young to seek me out, magelet."

"But, this is a dream. Is it not?" Robert cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. _What's a magelet, anyway?_

"It is. This dream that we are sharing, can be used as your place of study. We'll start with the basics, come."

"Study? Study what?" Robert followed as the man walked away through trees and shrubs that seemed to grow as they passed by.

"Study how to use your magic of course," Balthazar replied mildly.

"Magic?" Robert's voice seemed a whisper. "I have magic?"

"Yes, and a lot of it too. Best put it under control before it gets too bottled up. If it goes any further, overlooked, you'll be causing strange things in the natural world. And that's never good. It's already leaking through to your normal senses."

"And you can teach me to use it?" Robert hurried his pace.

"Yes," Perhaps he could find a good use for it later. He looked back behind them to the field where men still fought and died.

"Could you teach me to heal?"

"I can," Balthazar turned to look at him. Robert thought a moment.

"Please teach me Master Balthazar," Robert bowed formally.

"Come, we have much to cover tonight,"

**Nottingham, England 1199**

Robert, or Robbie as he preferred, followed after his mother. She was going to the church to welcome the new friar, and Robbie wanted to meet him too. The boy was half over nine summers, though his size made him seem a bit younger, his slightly trimmed hair fell in soft, dark curls to his shoulders and was pulled back in a short tail today, that showed off his unique lightning bolt scar. His mother had said that it had been a mark to remind all of the storm that brought him to them all. His tanned skin reflected his love of the outdoors and his tenancy to linger too long in the sun. And while he was young, his Grandfather had taught him all he needed to know of the sword and bow before he'd lost his sight. Robbie was getting skilled, if his Mother did say so. But sometimes, like his skill with bow and sword, he was just too gifted to forget. He could run fast, without tiring. He could see farther and in less light than the other villagers. He could hear things that others couldn't pick up, as well as smell things people missed. And sometimes he could do things that made no logical sense.

He'd been studying with Balthazar for three years, gradually working through spells and rituals and the things that needed to be learned. Meditation, Runes, Stones, Healing, Herbs and other things that were interesting and boring, and sometimes altogether frustrating. But it was worth it. Because now his magic came easier to him. Now he could use it to heal the injured animals he found in the woods, sometimes, when he played. Balthazar had also seen fit to teach him some self defense with a blade. Knives to start with and now the sword, though Robbie already had the basics for that one. He practiced every day just to impress his master while he slept. It was a start.

Robbie followed the black horse on his dappled gray. Wondering why she wasn't stopping because her horse was complaining about a stone in it's front left hoof. He frowned and remembered that no one else seemed to hear the animals. Maybe he could pry it out once they'd arrived at the church. He spotted the small gray stone chapel and smiled. He wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but he was glad the old friar was leaving. Robbie hated that man. The man was more interested in his own ascension of the church hierarchy than the people he was supposed to serve. It made Robbie sick.

He watched his mother dismount and followed quickly after, sliding off the back of his pretty Snow, the mare turned to him and snuffled his hair. He laughed and patted her cheek, leaving her to pick the stone from his mother's horse. The black stallion snorted in his face and thanked him, as much as any horse could with a gentle nibble to his ear. Robbie grinned and scampered after his mother, wondering if he might be able to help her with the planting this afternoon.

"Lady Marian, I would have been sorry to leave without your farewell, thank you," The old friar didn't even bother to look at his mother as he packed.

"I'm glad to speed you on your way, Father Tancred. But it was to seek out our _new_ shepherd-" the man cut her off.

"You have been greatly missed at Sunday worship and my sermons, as well as your son." The man pressed forward. Robbie inched into the chapel and clung to his mother's skirt, eying the new man standing over by the cross.

"I like a quiet church, Father, when I pray for a miracle." His mother replied, and Robbie smirked. He knew very well that his mother held no good opinion of this slimy man and would not miss his boring sermons. She walked towards the other man in the room, Robbie following along behind her, keeping his eyes away from the old friar.

"Your new flock is women, children, old-folk," Marian spoke to the new man, "men who have gone to war and returned broken. The orphans run wild in the greenwood. Our fields are ready for planting, but we've no seed corn, and the church barn is full of grain," He could here the pleading in his mother's voice. _Please let this man be nice_, Robbie prayed silently to himself. He cast a quick glance back at the old friar who was watching their conversation with steely eyes.

"Surely you do not ask the church to let it's corn be used to plant your fields. That grain is bound for York," Father Tancred said, continuing his packing. Robbie glared daggers at the man while his mother moved to confront him. The new friar following after quickly.

"I am Friar Tuck," the man said politely. "Father Tancred has been elevated to York, where I know he will remind the Bishop that the people of No -"

"The Bishop does not need reminding that the people of Nottingham should reap what they sow, and repent of their sins." Father Tancred cut in shallowly. Robbie wretched at the man's words, the first noise he'd made while in their presence. Friar Tuck gave him a startled look. Father Tancred was digging himself an early grave.

"The miracle I pray for is that the Bishop show some _christian_ charity," His mother hissed, she made to leave, stopping once by Father Tancred's side. "As I said Father, I like a _quiet_ church when I pray," And then she left. Robbie made to follow after her, avoiding Tancred's lingering eyes. He vaulted onto his mare and followed quickly after his mother, who was already galloping down the lane faster than he could follow. Snow wanted water, he called to his mother, but she was too far ahead. He sighed and pulled her away from his mother's path. Letting Snow trot into the main square. He dismounted and threw a charming smile at a man drawing water from the well. He handed the man some coin and let Snow drink. She nuzzled the side of his face lovingly after drinking and promised not to complain if he rode too far today. Robbie just laughed and mounted her again. Clicking his tongue he raced her towards Pepperharrow, his mother would surely be there, if not then his grandfather would be.

Robbie dismounted in the courtyard, noticing the horses of the Sheriff and his posse, surely the louts had better things to do than bother his poor mother. He tisk-d the poor horses as they spoke of aching backs and poor food. Seemed everyone suffered these days, even the horses.

"Mother! Grandfather!" Robbie skipped into the house, looking for his caretakers. The Sheriff was standing impatiently in the main room, he turned when Robbie entered.

"The young Master Locksley," The Sheriff's smile was vicious at best. And Robbie halted in his tracks at the sight of him. Mother had warned him not to go near the man. He was evil.

"Excuse me," Robbie gave a courteous bow and moved to the stairwell.

"Hold up just a moment, lad," The Sheriff grabbed his shoulder and Robbie stopped. "Is your Grandfather home?" Robbie thought for a moment. If the maids hadn't brought Grandfather down right away, and Mother was not handling the situation then Grandfather was feeling ill and Mother was out.

"I'm sorry, but my Grandfather cannot be disturbed at the moment and my Mother is out. Please, call again. Perhaps tomorrow?" Robbie turned and gave the man his best smile. Knowing that this answer would not satisfy the man. The Sheriff growled and backhanded him, sending Robbie spinning into the wall. Robbie held his cheek and glared up at the man.

"That will teach you to hold your tongue in front of your betters," The man's glower was dark but did nothing compared to Robbie's flashing green gaze. The Sheriff stalked out of the room, and Robbie moved to the window to watch the bastard leave. The man's horse could feel Robbie's hate and it shied away from the man before he gripped it's mane and clambered on it's back. When the Sheriff let go the horse reared, sending the man flying backwards to the ground. Robbie smirked from the window as he listened to the maids laugh at the Sheriff's plight, the twinge of pain at his sore cheek didn't even register in his mind. The man was not popular, not at all. Robbie watched the disheveled heap pick itself up and storm out of the courtyard. Feeling much better about life in general Robbie traipsed up the stairs to find his Grandfather and a good book before venturing outside to practice his knife work before supper.

Robbie walked through his dream study, looking at the collection of knowledge he'd gained in the form of scrolls an books upon sorted shelves. Master Balthazar had explained that organizing his mind would help him find what he needed quickly, so he'd built himself a small house in his head with just enough rooms to organize and sort his memories, knowledge and skills. Balthazar had been a bit amused by the size of his little rooms and showed him the simplified layout for his own. Balthazar was incredibly knowledgeable. And Robbie had looked upon the vast mansion that housed so much with wonder and awe. But that wasn't why he was here tonight. Balthazar had given him the night off studying, so he spent his time talking to the man. He still knew next to nothing about his master. And though he was comfortable with the man, he did not feel connected to him. Even if their minds shared dreams every night.

"Before you begin your string of questions, let me just tell you what you wish to know," The wizard held up his hand to stop Robbie from speaking. The boy wriggled deeper into the large, fluffy pillow he sat on and waited. Balthazar told him of his studies as a young man under Merlin. Of the painful betrayal of Horvath and the imprisonment of Morgana. He showed Robbie the little doll with it's multiple layers and confided to missing his love, Veronica. But, when he asked Robbie to hold the little dragon the boy shook his head.

"Master, I know I am not the one you seek. I may not need a ring to use my magic, but I have this feeling that you must wait much longer than this. Many, many years and many layers to go. Besides, Horvath is still out there. He'll be your last layer before the Prime Merlinian shows. I saw it the other day in the scrying bowl."

"You saw this?"

"Yes, I -" Robbie bit his lip, "I didn't know what I was looking at, the doll, until you showed me. But, it all makes sense now. His name is Dave, by the way. The boy you're looking for."

"Oh," Balthazar blinked.

"Sorry if I seem a bit perceptive today. It's close to the spring equinox and my brain gets a bit ahead of time in the spring." Robbie grimaced.

"That's fine, magelet," Balthazar gave a small smile. Robbie debated the merit of telling the man that his future life with Veronica was secured, but decided the man could do with a bit of a surprise. It would be a good one, after all. The house shimmered lightly.

"Oh, guess the sun's up," Robbie looked out of his dream-house window with a smile, "I'll see you tonight, Master," And with that Robbie closed his eyes and promptly woke up in his bed. Spring sun shining down on his face, swollen cheek throbbing as he smiled.

**Nottingham, England: A Day and a Half later.**

Robbie heard his mother's voice coming from the courtyard entrance. Margaret came in and curtseyed, telling Grandfather that Lady Marian needed him, there was a guest. He vaguely wondered what she needed Grandfather for if it was a 'guest' but, shrugged it off and guided his Grandfather to the entrance. Mother shooed him away as quickly as he'd arrived. He just barely managed to get a good look at the stranger before he had to back away from his mother's shooing. Robbie sighed but did as she bid, she was Mother after all. So he went upstairs to continue reading his book. The history of England was quite interesting. But he couldn't shed his thoughts from the face of the stranger in their home. He looked...familiar. Robbie sighed and put his book down. He wasn't getting anywhere with it anyway. He went to sit in front of his small mirror and stared at his face with scrutiny. Yes, it was there. In the faint set of his jaw, the small chin, the shape of his brow. _The stranger...could this be...Father?_ Robbie gazed at his reflection and tried to imagine the stranger's face next to his. He dare not hope that this man was him. But, no matter how hard he tried to dissuade himself his heart pounded with the thought. _Father, Father. My Father._

"Robbie!" Mother called from the stairwell. "Robbie! There is someone who would like to meet you!" Robbie shot to his feet and scrambled for the door. He jerked the latch up and hastened down the steps.

"Yes, Mother?" He flushed, _Could it really be?_

"Robbie," Marian pulled him into her arms and then turned him to face the stranger. "This is your father, Sir Robert Locksley. _Dear,_" The word seemed foreign to her as she said them, "This is your son, Robert Walter Locksley. You've never met." Robbie felt his heart stop in his chest. His breath stopped when he knew. _It is him!_ The words sung through his blood and surged through his body. Oh, what glorious day be it that his father had returned!

"Father," Robbie bowed formally, not sure what to expect from the man. He was strange. New. _Kind_. The word swam through his thoughts before the man extended a hand.

"Come here, boy," Father beckoned. Robbie stepped forward and stopped in front of the man, watching him with hopeful eyes. The man appraised him silently, then smiled and placed a gentle hand on his head. "It is good to meet my son," _My Son._ The words rang in his ears. Delicious melody that those words made to his ears.

"I am glad you are home, Father," Robbie smiled.

"Come, give your father a hug," the man pulled him into a tight embrace that picked him off the ground and Robbie was only too glad to give one back.

"We've missed you," Robbie whispered into the man's ear before he was set back on the ground. The man gave him a sad smile before Robbie was distracted by his mother leaving the room as Grandfather called for more wine and the church bell.

"Son," the man called Robbie's attention back. "What happened to your cheek?" the man's gentle hand cupped Robbie's swollen cheek that held the bruise from the Sheriff.

"The Sheriff of Nottingham called yesterday. He thought I talked back to him. I just asked him to call again, later, because Mother was out and Grandfather wasn't feeling well." Robbie shrugged as if it was no big deal. After all, the horse had already gotten his revenge.

"Really now?" Father raised an eyebrow, "Did you tell Mother?"

"No, she has enough to worry about without me getting into trouble with evil men," Robbie shook his head lightly.

"Robbie, stop bothering your father and let him eat." Mother came back in and tugged Robbie away from Father.

"I'm sorry, Father. Please, eat," Robbie apologized and went to take the empty seat that had been set by his mother.

"No need to apologize, you did nothing wrong," Father smiled. Robbie sat and ate in silence, listening to Grandfather and Father talk.

"Mother, now that Father is home..." Robbie trailed off, slightly nervous.

"Yes, dear?" Mother prodded.

"Can I have a little brother now?" Robbie watched as Father choked on his drink and began coughing. Mother seemed a bit distracted and Grandfather was laughing hysterically. "You said when Father got home, you'd think about it," Robbie reminded his mother softly.

"I think, we should speak of this later, Robbie," Mother gave him a slightly harsh look and dismissed the question. Either way, Robbie would bring it up again. He'd waited ten years for a little brother, he could wait a few more days. After all, Father had just gotten back, perhaps the faeries that made little brothers would bring his brother later on...

Robin felt a bit dragged around by Lady Marian. She was pretty, to be sure, but she was independent as well. Which suited him just fine. He smiled to himself when she insisted on saving the goat, and then proceeded to get herself stuck in the bog. He shook his head and dismounted, wondering what her son – his son, if he acted correctly – did all day while she took stock of the town. Actually, he'd been quite shocked to see young Robert, and knowing that he was deceiving the boy made his gut wrench guiltily. He was an honest man, and lying to a child did not sit right with him. But, the boy reminded him so much of himself. He couldn't help but feel like Robert was his son. The boy had proceeded to show that he was extremely smart and capable. And he'd insisted on his father teaching him the blade, apparently he hadn't been able to practice well for several years with his grandfather's fading eyesight. And Robin had, grudgingly, relented. He reminded himself to get Will and John to help teach the boy, though maybe John was a bit much.

Robin waded into the bog with the rope hanging around his neck and torso, going for the ram first. After all, it had started everything, right?

"Oh, is it my turn now?" Marian asked snarkily, raising an eyebrow as he picked her up. The sound of hoof beats stopping drew his attention up as he dumped her on the ground.

"Nicely done, Sir," The man on the horse said with a perverse smile, "To see Lady Marian's legs, beyond my wildest hopes this morning," Marian glowered before realizing something and grabbing Robin's shoulder.

"I don't believe you know my husband, Sir Robert," She began, "Allow me to introduce the Sheriff of Nottingham." Robin eyed the man, angry on behalf of Marian, but also young Robert. This was the bastard that smacked the boy.

"Welcome home, Sir Robert. You make your mark quickly by rescuing the King's lamb from drowning." the Sheriff motioned towards the bog.

"What's this?" Marian stared, mouth agape.

"What's mine in coin I have a right to take in goods or livestock," the Sheriff shrugged.

"If it's God's will," Robin spared Marian a glance before digging in his purse and pulling out a coin. "Here's a ram's worth of tax, forgoing your insolence to Lady Marian and your brutality to my son. I'll consider the debt between us." Nottingham's eyes widened in shock as he caught the coin Robin tossed him. With that, Robin led a grinning Marian away. If he saw the bastard near either of them again, the Sheriff would be sporting new scars and bruises.

"I'll warn you know, magelet, that man is not you're father," Balthazar grimaced.

"I know," Robbie looked away from the painting of Father that had been hung in the entrance of his mind-home. It was a good image, and the likeness to the man was very close. Robbie blamed his good eyes. The man did look like hims, a bit, but this man was not Father.

"Still, he's kind. And Mother calls him Father, so perhaps he is the new Father?" Robbie pondered.

"Your mother waited ten years for Sir Robert to come home, you really think she'd remarry now? Besides, isn't this stranger new?" Balthazar eyed the painting with scrutiny.

"I suppose," Robbie nodded. "I'll worry about it later, he doesn't seem to will us harm, so I'll leave it for now. What are we covering tonight?" Robbie turned away from the painting with determination to put everything else out of his mind.

"Remedial work, review. Just to make sure you haven't forgotten anything," Balthazar smiled.

"Oh, goodie," Robbie rolled his eyes and trotted after his master, review was Balthazar's way of saying 'We're going over all the basics so I can scold you'. _Oh well,_ he thought lightly, _nothing in this world could make me give up our nightly study._ And it was true. Robbie always looked forward to sleep because Balthazar was always there, ready to teach him something new. And if he hadn't known better he would have started calling Balthazar 'Father' long ago. But that would make the man flustered and practically useless.

"Magelet," Balthazar turned to him suddenly.

"Yes, Master?" Robbie cocked his head to the side.

"I just wanted to let you know I'll be visiting sometime this month. Don't be alarmed, because I'm taking you away for further training."

"Oh, what about Mother?"

"I'll explain everything to her when I get there, for now, just act natural."

"So, I can tell her to expect a visitor?"

"If that is natural."

"She thinks I have visions in my dreams sometimes. I'll let her know you'll be here."

"Very well, though most mortals don't take us well."

"Mother is kind, you need not worry," Robbie assured. "She'll keep us safe from the locals and give you a warm bed to sleep in,"

"My thanks," Balthazar smiled, "Now," and they returned their attention to the basics.

Robbie enjoyed learning from his father. Life seemed so much better with Sir Robert around and Robbie had to remind himself that he couldn't get used to having his father there every morning. If he did, then the man might go away again, and he didn't want that to happen. It was one of these learning mornings where Sir Robert had decided to take his son with him to hunt. He was showing Robbie how to move through the brush and keep the wildlife from startling until you wanted it too. He also explained the proper way to shoot a bow and arrow. And it was after Father shot a fair sized mallard duck that everything went funny. Robbie could smell the scent of unwashed human body and hear the scratching of well trained hunting feet. Much like what Father had just taught him. _But, what is the prey?_ Robbie's mind worked rapidly until he felt the circle close around them. _Oh...we are._ Robbie grabbed his father's shoulder.

"Father," Robbie whispered. "They're hunting us," the words barely left his mouth before the ambush sprung at them. Robbie barely suppressed his surprise when Sir Robert shoved him to the ground. He could think of only a few reasons for such an action and they settled on a single one. _Protect._ But, this was also what his mind screamed for him to do. He did not want to lose his father. He felt the hard ground connect with his body at last and rolled, springing back up into the small tousle. Robbie cocked his arm back and snapped one of their assailants in the face, watching the boy spin to the ground, his attack halted. Father was far more skilled than he in hand to hand combat, but Robbie didn't need see it to know. He rushed one of the boys at Father's back, tackling the mass and hurling end over end until they came to a stop and the boy did not move beneath him. He got another one of his vague senses of knowing that told him his magic had done something unconsciously to stop the boy from moving. But all of this meant little when something hard collided with his head.

Robbie opened his eyes, feeling like he'd been trampled by Snow's thick hooves. His eyes adjusted slowly until he could take in every feature of the grove they were in. He felt, more than saw, his father next to him. Not that it mattered since he couldn't move his hands or feet.

"Right! Go on. Go on!" An older boy, possibly fifteen or sixteen summers shooed the younger ones out of his way and came to sit on a log in front of Robbie and Sir Robert. "He said anything yet?"

"They was spying, Loop," The older boy standing above Robbie said gruffly. Robbie took a guess and figured Loop was the boy on the log, possibly the leader.

"Spying?" Robbie's head shot up as Mother's voice appeared, "Robert, I'm ashamed of you! And dragging in poor Robbie!"

"Hello, Marian," Father said brightly, "We've come ta save ya," The boys all laughed as Father spoke.

"Know 'em?" Loop asked Mother.

"Boys," Mother smiled, "This is Sir Robert Locksley, my husband. And Robbie, my son. Sir Robert, Robbie, the runaways of Sherwood."

"Untie 'im" Loop ordered, looking a bit shamed. Robbie caught his eye and smiled, all in good natured fun.

"No, I don't think spies should be let off so easily," Mother smirked sitting down on the other end of Loop's log.

"That was unkind," Father stared at her.

"You were a crusader?" Loop leaned in towards Father, and Robbie's protective instinct went a bit crazy. He shoved it down. Father would be fine, he was a crusader, after all.

"Yes,"

"You here that boys?" Loop beamed, "You bested a crusader!" Loop leaned back towards father. "My men are good fighters" Robbie subtly wriggled his hands, feeling the knot's weaknesses, as no doubt his father could too.

"I don't know about that, I think the weight of numbers might have been in their favor. But they move silently like creatures of the forest, I couldn't pick them up. I was warned by my son. Still, that's only a skill if you stay as a man. If you don't become the creatures you hunt."

"We're soldiers," Loop looked a bit offended.

"No your not." Father stared him down, "Soldiers fight for a cause. What's yours? You don't have one. That makes you poachers. Common Thieves!" The boys started to growl at him. "And a lot to learn." Father finished. Robbie saw Father's hands slip from the knots, so he figured he could slip free as well. The knots had been simple to free himself from.

"Like what?" Loop hissed.

"I could teach ya...how to tie knots," Father tossed the pole he'd been strung to at Loop and stood. Robbie stood up as well, but didn't bother attacking. Father could handle his own. He could see that now. "I could teach ya which wood to get to make your bow stronger. I could teach ya how to make arrows that fly more than twenty feet. And I could help Marian teach you how to stay clean, so you won't get sick. I don't know who you're fighting, son, but it's not me. I'm not your enemy. If you want a chance, you know where to find me." Robbie beamed at his father's intelligence. Trust Father to handle his own escape.

"Wife," Sir Robert beckoned to Mother, "Son," Robbie smiled at his father and made his way towards the man.

"Hold up a moment. Will, this the boy who did it?" Loop halted Robbie with a single hand.

"Yeah, poor Pete's still not moving" the boy, Will, nodded.

"What'd you do to Pete?" Loop turned his dark eyes on Robbie.

"Pete?" Robbie's sense of knowing came back. This was the boy he'd stopped from moving. Robbie cocked his head to the side. "Where is he?"

Loop motioned for him to follow and led Robbie towards a small makeshift shelter. The boy he'd tackled lay inside on a pallet of leaves, as stone stiff as he'd been earlier.

"I don't know what I did," Robbie eyed the boy grimly and picked up the Pete's wrist. There was still a pulse, that was good. But the boy wouldn't move. He thought for a moment and scrunched up his face. How did he fix this. None of the spells he'd been taught did anything like this. Robbie cast a glance at Pete and got an idea, he put his hand on the boy's chest and pushed down slightly, he felt his magic leak out of him and wrap around the boy's body. And then the whole sensation just pulled off of the boy and Pete gasped and sat up quickly. Robbie, not wishing to try to explain to a baffled Loop, bounced out of the little house and joined his mother and father.

He prayed the strange things would never happen like that again. Reappearing things, moving objects, floating books. Fine. Boy's that didn't move. Not good.

"What was that about Robbie?" Mother asked, looking a little worried.

"Er, twas nothing," Robbie shrugged and looked away from his parents. Father didn't know about his magic. Mother knew all too well. Robbie figured Mother and Father would speak of it later. Most likely without him around. Robbie turned when he heard a robin's soft call and spied the little bird in the tree. It's wing looked funny, and the bird was calling for help. Robbie scampered up the tree, ignoring his confused parents and picked up the little bird.

"Shh, shh. It's alright. Let me see your wing," The bird settled when it felt his presence as friendly. "That's a good girl," Robbie lightly felt the wing. He left his hand on the bird's wing and directed his magic into it. It followed along quite obligingly and swirled around the broken limb. _Now heal,_ he nudged, and it did as he asked. The bird tested it's wing and then twittered it's thanks and flew away, singing a song of praise about the forest eyed boy with the healing hands. Robbie smiled to himself and scrambled down the tree. He looked up at his mother and gave a small sigh.

"I must explain, but, at home, please," He pleaded, looking away from her.

When they got home Robbie arranged three chairs in his room and took a seat on his bed. Mother, Father and Grandfather joined him soon after, wondering what Robbie was going to speak about.

"Before I begin, I must inform you that I am in all ways completely sane," Robbie looked at them each in turn and then riveted his eyes to the carpet.

"Son, y-you don't need to," Mother said lightly.

"I know you don't wish me to, but it is getting harder to keep this a secret." Robbie took a deep breath and began. "Mother may not have told you, but, I'm not her true child. I appeared in a flash of green lightning three months after I was born, crying on her bed with no parents around and no explanation. And I suppose my strange arrival may have been an understatement for how strange I truly am. But, nevertheless, I am grateful to Grandfather and Mother for keeping me and I view them as my family, though we share no blood.

"I was six years old when I began dreaming of a man named Balthazar, an apprentice of the great sorcerer Merlin, and he has taught me how to control my magic. I have studied for three years under him, and he is a good master and teacher. Thus, the healing I can perform. I did not wish to worry you, and I'm grateful that you see me as a son, but, I know that you are not my father, no matter how much we look alike. And so I tell you this with the utmost faith in you and trust you will not leak this information, to any one."

Robbie did not watch his mother's shock at learning that he had found a magical teacher while he slept, he did not see the strong emotions that played over Father's face, and he avoided even thinking about how his grandfather would take this news. A chair scraped, boots edged into his periphery and then strong hands rested against his shoulder.

"I thank you, young Robert, for placing so much trust in a man who is not kin. For being honest with me when I have not been with you." Robbie looked up at Father and gave a weak smile. "I am not you're father, as you know. But, I am not Sir Robert Locksley, either. My name is Robin Longstride, please forgive me for lying to you," Robbie held the man's blue gaze before nodding,

"I understand why you did it, Father. And before you ask, you have been more a father to me these past days than I have known. Though I view my master Balthazar as a father as well, you have given me what no one else could, and I respect you for staying with us and helping Nottingham and my mother. We needed that," Robbie fell silent and the man pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you," He heard muttered against his ear, and all Robbie could do was smile. It felt strange, knowing this man was not kin or Mother's husband. But this was a man she loved, a man whom Robbie could see standing up for justice and goodness in this dark world. He prayed only for protection to keep this warm fire from being snuffed.

Robbie sat by Grandfather at the bonfire that evening, watching the people dance and laugh and sing. He was glad Father had proposed this. The people of Nottingham seemed to enjoy the festivities and delights and it brought back vitality to the townsfolk. It made him happy to see. Father came back over, with a mug of mead for Grandfather.

"Music, laughter, the crackle of the bonfire, the roasting pig. Life has returned. You have returned it, Robert." Robbie smiled, hearing the joy in his grandfather's voice. It was nice to have this back, this closeness and joy. Robbie's ears perked as he picked up the careful steps of hunters, and then, a bird's call. He turned to scan the night behind him, his eyes adjusting fast. His gaze locked on the form of a young man, about thirty paces away. Robbie excused himself from Grandfather's side and trotted off towards him. It was that vague sense of knowing that had him call out.

"Loop!" He stopped several paces from the teen, "Have you come to join us?" He couldn't help the smile that broke over his face. He liked the boy, a kindred spirit. But he loved his family too much to runaway and join the band of boys in the Sherwood.

"Robbie," The boy seemed to startle lightly. "How did you know it was me?"

"I've always been good at remembering people," Robbie shrugged. It was half true. "Come, before all the food's gone!"

"Ah, no," Loop stopped him with a hand, lightly resting on his shoulder. "I came to talk to you. About Pete, and the bird,"

"Oh?" Robbie cocked his head to the side and watched Loop's grain sack mask as it rustled in the breeze.

"Yes, you – that is ta say – uhm – Pete, before you did that thing, he was very ill. And now, he's – he's jest not," Loop sounded a little confused. "And then, with the bird. It's wing was broken, wasn't it. I could see it, twisted all awkward, like. And then you jest held it. And it flew away jest fine. What did ya do?"

"I – er – I'm not supposed to talk about it," Robbie ducked his head in shame. "Mother doesn't want me to let it out. It's a secret after all," Loop raised his arm to his mouth and coughed lightly. "Are you sick?" Loop's coughing got a bit more violent. Robbie bit his lower lip and stepped forward, pressing his hand to Loop's chest. He wasn't sure if his magic would know how to cure illness, like it did with broken bones and cuts. It was different with Loop. He could feel the sickness in the older boy, and his magic swarmed into the teen's body. It flushed through his veins and beat the sickness out of him. Robbie let his hand slide up to Loop's throat, he felt the sting of soreness there and he soothed it with a bit of magic.

"Loop? Loop, are you okay?" He whispered. The older boy had stopped coughing, stopped moving, stopped breathing. He stared down at Robbie, and Robbie looked back up timidly.

"I – I don't think I'm sick anymore," Loop managed.

"Oh, good," Robbie sighed, "It worked then. I didn't know I could do that."

"Robbie, what are you?" Robbie's eyebrows furrowed.

"Human, of course," he answered. Loop just stared at him, anyway. And Robbie could feel a slightly embarrassed flush crawl up his face. "I should probably get back,"

"Will you come by tomorrow? We've got some boys who are very ill," Loop asked, grabbing Robbie's hand.

"I'll try. I've got lessons tomorrow," Robbie bit his lip and nodded. It was something about Loop. His magic seemed to draw him toward the older boy. He watched Loop for a moment and then nodded once again, more determined. "Tomorrow, then,"

Loop nodded to him once and then melted back into the night, like a ghost. Robbie watched the spot he'd disappeared into for a moment before turning back to the fire and his family. The night away from the bonfire was chiller than he'd thought, he shivered lightly. A firm hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"I thought you'd at least have common sense, magelet," The man at his side huffed.

"Master Balthazar! You're here!" Robbie forgot all about the cold and launched himself into the man's side, arms wrapping around his thin but well muscled waist.

"Yes, yes, I'm here," Balthazar growled gruffly but gave a pleased sigh. "Took forever and a half to find you, though. What spells and enchantments are you under? I've never seen such a hiding charm before. None of my magic worked in locating you, so I had to find you the mortal way,"

"Oh, what is the world coming to when Master Balthazar must find things like a mortal," Robbie rolled his eyes appreciatively and smiled up at the man. He turned back towards the small party by the fire and grabbed his master's hand tugging him towards the people.

"Come, you must meet Mother and Father, and Grandfather! I know they will be most pleased to meet you,"

"Hold a moment, magelet," Balthazar paused him.

"Yes?" Robbie turned his wide gem-like eyes on his master.

"That mortal boy, a word of warning. Falling in love with mortals only gets you hurt," Balthazar set his fingers under the boy's chin and held his gaze. "They do not live the span of our lives and will wither and die within too short a time,"

"I know," Robbie nodded, "You have shown me Merlin's past, and given me the stories to learn from. I will not mourn for the passing of life that fuels the cycle. My magic is simply drawn to him, that is all."

"You're very detached for a boy of merely nine," Balthazar grumbled.

"Nine and a half," Robbie clarified, commencing his tugging at his master's sleeve. "In all seriousness, however, whether my heart is given to mortal or sorcerer, besides, I shall only love one who can understand me and keep my faith and trust."

"Hnn," Balthazar muttered and followed his young apprentice. He had a feeling they boy wouldn't head his advice anyway.

"Mother!" Robbie skidded to a halt beside the dark haired woman, between her and the chair of his grandfather.

"Robbie? What is it?" She turned to him only to have her gaze drift down to his had curled deep within a man's long cloak and up to the face of Robbie's captive.

"Mother, I did tell you to expect a guest. This is my master, Balthazar Blake," Robbie introduced. "Master, may I introduce my mother, Lady Marian Locksley or Nottingham,"

"A pleasure to meet you, madam," Balthazar bowed respectfully.

"And you, Sir," She curtsied.

"Your son is quite the sorcerer," He acknowledged.

"I'm sure he wouldn't be quite as good without your help," She flushed, any compliment to her son was wholly received and cherished, her heart filled with pride.

"Marian, who is this?" Robin came back over to them along with Grandfather's old friend Sir William Marshal.

"Father, this is Master Balthazar Blake, the man I spoke of earlier," Robbie introduced. "This is Robin Longstride, my acting Father,"

"Ah, the man himself from the painting, Robbie spent much of our lessons discussing you," Balthazar said after his respectful bow.

"Me?" Robin raised a curious eyebrow.

"I am easily distracted by new and foreign things," Robbie shrugged blushing under the scrutiny of his parent's gaze.

"Magelet, did you tell them why I came?" Balthazar asked.

"You said to leave the explanation to you, Master Balthazar," Robbie smirked.

"Really?" Marian raised an accusing brow. "Why did you travel to find us, Master Blake?"

Balthazar cleared his throat experimentally before beginning.

"Robbie is in need of thorough training that I can no longer provide through our shared dreams, so I have come to take him with me to complete his training,"

"Take my son?" Mother practically cried.

"Only for a few years, he will be back once he can control his magic," Master Balthazar explained quickly.

"We should finish this discussion elsewhere," Robin broke in with a harsh whisper.

"Agreed," Balthazar looked about them and frowned.

"I will take Master Balthazar to the house," Robbie sighed, so much for Mother's ease and acceptance, "Please, do not stay much longer," He turned and led the old sorcerer away from the party. When they arrived at Pepperharrow Robbie was surprised to find a baffled and drunk Sheriff in their courtyard. The Sheriff looked up as the entered and seemed to ignore Balthazar.

"Therhe youh are, bhoy!" The man sloshed towards him drunkenly.

"What do you want?" Robbie's eyes narrowed. The Sheriff seemed to take a good look at him and realized he was holding Balthazar's cloak in a tight fist, knuckles completely white.

"I shug-gesht youh move off, Shir," the Sheriff demanded, making a grab for Robbie who slipped out of his hold quickly and backed away. "Thish lith-tle shlut ish mhine"

Balthazar's hands flashed for a moment in a blur of movement that gave even Robbie a hard time to focus on. The sorcerer caught the man's grabbing paws and dragged the drunk Sheriff towards the gates.

"Never. I repeat, _never_, speak of my apprentice that way!" Balthazar hissed tossing the man out onto the pathway and slamming the wooden gates shut behind him.

"Balthazar, are you angry?" Robbie looked up at the man in shock. He wasn't sure if he should be happy, horrified or worried.

"Robbie," The man sighed down at him.

"I'm not a whore," Robbie shook his head, "I'm not! I may be pretty but I don't – I don't-" Robbie felt the tears sting his eyes and he brought his hands up to fist them away with a choked growl. He was _not_ going to cry, dammit.

"It's alright," Balthazar knelt, resting a soothing hand on the boy's shoulder. "I know. I know,"

Robbie took a deep breath and collected himself.

"I hate that man," He said hoarsely and then turned and stalked into the house, Balthazar on his heels. The house was empty and quiet. The servants had the night off, and his guardians were all on their way back home, hopefully. He offered Balthazar a chair and then sat in one of his own after building up the fire.

"Robbie I have a request to make," Balthazar said after a moment.

"Anything, Master," Robbie looked over at the man.

"May I examine the charms you have on you?"

"Certainly," Robbie nodded.

Balthazar knelt in front of him and concentrated deeply.

"It seems to be centered here," Balthazar placed his hand lightly over Robbie's forehead.

"Oh, so it has to do with my scar?"

"Scar? You never had a scar in the dreams," Balthazar looked at it and frowned. "_Dark magic_," the words sounded like a curse as they rolled off his tongue.

"Oh, what else?" This was curiously new to him.

"It looks like a killing curse mixed with a transportation spell," Balthazar inspected it, prodding the thing with his magic. A stray poke sent Robbie into a state of variable shock and sent lightning blots of shivers down his spine. It was unpleasant and oddly funny at the same time.

"Please, do not do that again," Robbie shuddered when Balthazar's magic pulled away from his scar.

"It's strange that they placed it so close to your magical channel. By all I know you should have been dead the moment that curse hit you, but whatever it was got deflected and changed into that traveling spell. I wonder what happened,"

"Would this be why I landed in my mother's bed as a three month old infant?"

"Most likely," Balthazar shrugged and sat back in his seat.

"Odd," Robbie muttered under his breath, _Very odd,_ came his own echoing reply.

The night of explanations was long, as Balthazar was not the only concern of his parents. Robin Longstride was returning to his own name and title...and he was leaving. Robbie almost wanted to cry. Almost. But, he knew that if he held on too tightly he would lose the man in the end. Balthazar stayed for the night, and Marian had finally consented to allowing him to leave with his master in a few days. If all went well he would be back in several years.

**Nottingham, England: The Next Morning**

Robbie woke to the sun with a strange taste on his tongue. It was apprehension and fear, both of which did not sit well with him and made his spine shiver with protest. Whatever was coming was decidedly evil and meant harm. He couldn't focus on his lessons with Balthazar or Grandfather Walter and because he was getting no where Balthazar seemed agitated.

"Something's wrong?" He asked.

"Yes, something is very wrong," Robbie did not stray his gaze from the hilltop and that's when he froze, the horse and rider appeared.

"It's here," He hissed and clambered down from his perch on the wall. Balthazar held him still in the shadows.

"Best see what they want first," He muttered grimly. Robbie only nodded to agree, he was not happy.

"Locksley!" The rider called, dismounting as the rest of his men pulled into their courtyard.

"Who calls here?" Robbie watched, horrified, as his grandfather stepped out.

"I call for Robert Locksley!" The man said his nose practically in the air.

"My son is not here to answer you," Grandfather replied.

"That's the truth, because he's dead in a French ditch." The other men laughed as this man talked. Robbie inched forward, he needed to help his grandfather.

"And who are you, sir, to say so?" Grandfather asked.

"Who am I?" The man retorted, inching closer. Robbie watched, disgusted, as the man's tongue ran to a sewn up slash at the edge of his lips. "I'm the one who killed him," Robbie was lucky and cursed for his sensitive hearing, because he heard the words that were nothing more than whisper. Grandfather swung at him.

"Fight me, if you dare!" Robbie made to rush to aide his Grandfather but, Balthazar's hand stayed him.

"Robbie, if you go out there, they will kill you," He shook his head. Robbie looked at him pitifully and then back at his grandfather.

"Lord have mercy," The cruel man laughed and toyed with Grandfather as the blind man attempted to fight. Robbie saw all too clearly when the man made up his mind to kill Sir Walter and broke from Balthazar's hands, just too late. He watched as his grandfather's body fell in slow motion before him and then the blood was pounding in his ears. _How dare! How Dare! HOW DARE HE!_ He felt the magic swell beneath his skin, fueled by his anger and sorrow. He did not notice Balthazar blanch at the sight of his quivering, furious, powerful apprentice. It was not Balthazar he was aiming for to be frightened. It was that _monster_ that bastardized _mortal_.

Robbie's fingers drew his saixe knife from his belt and his magic thrummed. With a slight pop he disappeared from Balthazar's side and reappeared above the man, dropping at an angle to tumble him to the ground. The man never knew what hit him, the large knife sliding home between the base of his skull and his neck. The ring of taunting, jeering Frenchmen jumped at the appearance of the little boy who had just assassinated their leader. Fear building when those thundering green eyes looked around at the circle of men. They did not survive long after their master died. Balthazar helped with that.

But it was not the help with the killing that Robbie needed. It was the overload of grief that spilled as the last corpse fell to the ground. He was half over nine summers. He was young and innocent and stained with blood and guilt and grief. It was all Balthazar could do to hold the child as he cried and screamed and called for a man who would never wake. It was torture.

It was during this that Robbie finally understood just what happened when you got too close to a mortal. But, despite his pain and the tears and the endless_ hurt_ that came with Grandfather's death, it did not outweigh the joy and the knowledge and the life that were left in his memories. So when he finally stopped crying long enough to register that he was lying in bed curled against his Master before he passed out, he was relieved that Grandfather had lived a full and fortunate life and the pain was eased a bit.

Father left to fight Phillip of France with King John and the other nobles and Robbie convinced Loop and Marian that going to 'help' fight was about the dumbest thing they could do because Robin would just worry and get himself killed. So they waited, and he returned home safe, though he was now an decreed outlaw, and once Robin was safely home withing the Sherwood Forest, Robbie left with Balthazar.

**Sherwood Forest, Nottingham 1205: Six Years Later**

Loop and a few of his boys, who were now young men, were watching the stranger who walked calmly and almost familiarly down the path to Nottingham. Despite the warm-ish weather for the autumn months this stranger wore a dark cloak with a deep hood that covered most of his face, excepting the delicate set of the chin. _Nobleman,_ Loop sneered in his own head, watching the figure progress down the lane. He made a few signals before positioning himself a few hundred feet ahead and lounging in the middle of the road. The stranger stopped almost ten feet in front of him. Loop turned his face to look at the man but his words were cut off by the stranger's own voice.

"Loop? Is that you?" The question made Loop take a step back.

"Who's askin'?" Loop countered. The brilliant, warm laugh that answered was both pleasing and unnerving but, he wanted to hear it again.

"Forgotten me after only six years? You offend me! Why I thought about you at least once everyday," The stranger's voice mellowed out into a sultry honey liquor. Loop just stared at the man, well, boy, really. The kid couldn't have been over fifteen now that he looked at him.

"You really don't remember me, do you?" The stranger sighed, pulling down his hood. Loop's jaw practically dropped at the familiar tanned face of a boy he once knew and the twinkling green eyes that had haunted most of his dreams. The boy just smiled at him.

"Hello, again," Robbie Locksley laughed charmingly at the grown up Loop who stood before him.

"H-Hello, Robbie," Loop managed to breath.

"Are Robin and Marian still around?" Robbie cocked his head to the side cutely.

"Yeah, come on, I'll show you to the hideout," Loop pried his eyes off of the boy and led him through the trees.

"I missed the Sherwood," he heard Robbie's smile in the loving tone of voice.

"We all missed you," Loop heard himself say and he mentally kicked himself, _Stupid, Stupid, Stupid! Why don't you just tell him you think he's beautiful and drag him off to ravish him! IDIOT! _Robbie laughed and he could just imagine that blinding white smile of the boys face. Yeah, he really needed to stop thinking that way.

"What happened to that Master of yours?" Loop cleared his throat and asked.

"Oh, Master Balthazar finished teaching me all I needed to know." The loving way Robbie said the sorcerer's name made Loop feel unreasonably jealous. _Loop, you haven't seen him in six years. You really have no right to feel this way,_ he told himself over and over, but the words just did nothing to help. Loop engaged in small talk until they reached the small establishment for the runaways and Robin's merry men.

"Robin, Lady Marian, Visitor to see you!" Loop called. Every head in the vicinity turned towards Loop and Robbie.

"Robert!" Lady Marian's tender face peeked out of a nearby shed before she rushed to hug him.

"Told you I'd be back, Mother," Robbie hugged her tightly.

"I missed you, dear," She breathed before stepping back and taking a good look at him. "You seem to have grown well, though you're a bit short. And really, Robert, what possessed you to keep your hair so long, it's practically my length."

"Sorry, Master Balthazar's study is a bit...removed, from the town" Robbie grimaced, running a stray hand through his long black tresses.

"Robbie!" Another person scooped him up in a bear hug and twirled him around.

"Father!" He smiled brightly at Robin and laughed.

"We missed you, son." Robin said lightly, placing him back on the ground.

"It was only six years," Robbie shrugged.

"Six years is over half of how long I was away for, boy," Robin arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, but it wasn't ten years!" Robbie smiled.

"Agreed," Robin nodded.

"Robbie, would you like to meet your little sister?" Marian asked.

"Sister?" Robbie's ears perked

"Her name is Victoria," Marian waved forward a five year old girl with thick brown hair and crystal blue eyes.

"Hello Victoria," Robbie knelt in front of the girl with his most winning smile, "I'm your older brother Robert,"

"Big brother?" She asked, eyes going wide. Robbie was able to nod several times before his arms were full of little sister. She snuggled into his chest with a smile.

"We told her all about you, she's wanted to meet you for the last year and a half," Robin smiled at them.

"Oh," Robbie blushed, looking down at the little girl.

Robbie fell right in with the goings on of everyday life in the Sherwood. He helped Marian around and kept the younger children busy and laughing. And sometimes, when things went wrong or people got sick, he healed them. He mainly avoided using his magic for frivolous things when he could do it himself. He wasn't one to use a shortcut, after all. And he increasingly found his attention being divided between family, chores and Loop. Not that he minded. His magic still pulled him to that rebellious young man, and it was nice, knowing things hadn't changed too much. He was shocked to learn that Loop had yet to take a wife though he was in his early twenties. Which wasn't on the whole strange but, Loop seemed to be admired by many of the women and yet he hadn't made an offer of marriage to any.

He found out why almost a month after his arrival.

"Robbie, you home?" A knock on the wood framing his little cottage warned him of his visitor.

"Come in," Robbie called, capping his ink bottle and wiping his quill dry on a scrap of cloth. He stood and turned around just as his visitor entered his little study. It was Loop, of course.

"Good afternoon, Loop," Robbie smiled at him.

"Good afternoon, Robbie," The young man replied. Robbie motioned to a chair and Loop sat down.

"What brings you here?"

"I needed to speak with you, in private," Loop swallowed loudly. Robbie smiled and threw up a small silencing shield so they could not be overheard.

"Alright, I'm listening,"

"Robbie, I've known you for six years, even if you were gone for most of that and I've only been a true part of your life for the past few weeks, but," He hesitated.

"But?" Robbie urged.

"-But, I think I might...love you..." Loop gulped and looked away from Robbie. He just needed to get it out of his system. Loving another man was immoral. It was a sin against God, it wasn't _natural_. But he did. He loved Robbie. He felt it in every fibber of his being. Screw how fast it had been. He'd felt it when he was sixteen dying of a coughing-fever and then been touched by a green-eyed angel who cured him in mere moments.

"Really?" Robbie sounded surprised, he looked surprised too. He wasn't used to surprises anymore, he'd gotten really good at scrying, though he tried to stay out of his own future. But, it was just...shocking to hear the words fall from Loop's mouth. He watched Loop nod softly, staring intently at the dirt floor. Robbie's heart soared and he swore he was flying as he leapt to stand in front of Loop. He placed his hands on the sides of Loops face and pulled the man's face up to meet his. He smiled down at Loop probably looking like an idiot (more like an angel to Loop) and then kissed the man lightly on the lips. The contact made him shiver, it was the most satisfying thing in the world. That one, single kiss. And he swore he heard lightning crack and thunder roll on the distance.

"I love you, too," He murmured over Loop's lips when he drew away. One hand running through the man's short hair, the other cupping his cheek. Loop sighed and his shoulder's relaxed as he twined his arms around Robbie's lithe figure. He was ashamed but, proud and delighted and in love. And that's all he really needed to cancel out his shame. He held Robbie close and leaned up to kiss the boy again, this time he dominated the kiss. And Robbie willingly let him. Robbie wrapped his arms around Loop's neck and let the man lead the kiss. He twined his fingers in Loops hair and twirled strands of it around as they kissed. It was simple and sweet and all they were willing to risk at the moment.

"I'll be back later tonight," Loop grinned at him from the doorway.

"I'll be here, waiting," Robbie smiled after him.

Twenty lovely years was the span of their relationship. Blissful with a few unavoidable bumps. And when Loop died. It hurt. But, Robbie always looked back on his memories with fondness and love and never regretted a moment of his life with Loop. It took centuries to heal that wound, but when he couldn't take it, he went to Balthazar, who always welcomed him with open arms and a friendly smile. Robbie was a wizard after all, and he had many, many more centuries to live.

Ending AN: Okay, I admit it! After a week of writing this, and...well...writing this, I am too lazy too go back and check for minor grammatical/spelling errors. Sorry. I'm just too tired to pick through 19 pages of written work that took FOREVER and a half to write and come out of my brain. Ugh, and I'm not even happy with this. Whatever, I still hope you liked it. At least for the fluffy ending. I was gonna write sex, but it would have just killed my slow moving plot/story line and just ruined the _mood_ I was going for. Which still didn't turn out how I wanted. (pouting face). I don't like a lot of this, and I really want to know _why_ Harry/Robbie decided to be a little bitch and steal my thunder! I was going to have this epic scene where he answers when Godfrey calls for Robert Locksley, but then Balthazar got all caring and shit and then Robbie just has to go and be all assassiny! Why don't you listen to me! I'm the one writing! And now I'm just bitching, sorry. Review if you want to. I love feedback. And I'll still write a request fic for whoever can guess where and who I got Robbie's nickname 'magelet' from.

**As Lives-in-Fantasy replied, 'magelet' comes from Tamora Pierce's 'The Immortals' Series. It is used by Numair for his student Daine.**


	4. One Night HPxDW

AN:2.6.13: Moving this into the Trust Vault

**One Night**

AN: Sorry, was listening to some soothing music by Benise and got this idea stuck in my head. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Doctor Who. They belong to JK Rowling and the various Executive Producers of the show/series.

Warning: implied male pairing, fluffy one shot...

_Spanish Kiss_

Harry watched from his patio table as several people danced in front of the live performance band in the elegant new restaurant. A thin smile broke over his face as he watched the patrons. It was nice to know that the cost of the performers was at least worth paying for. It was his first time opening a restaurant, after all. He set down his glass of water and leaned back in his chair, observing the scene.

"Excuse me, may I have this dance?" a light tap to his shoulder interrupted his brooding. Harry turned to look at the man who had asked, his smile widening as he caught a glimpse of familiar pinstripe.

"I suppose," He stood and took the man's hand lightly.

The man led him to the dancers and slowly spun him until they were facing. The music was delicate and intoxicating. It suited them.

"I didn't think you'd come back," Harry whispered when they got close, his lips almost touching the man's neck. The laugh that replied was husky and made him shiver.

"Always," Deep brown eyes full of warmth stayed steadily glued to Harry's green. Harry was spun out and he slipped out of their dance and pulled away. His hips swaying lightly as he danced his way out of the group of dancers, eyes watching the slow progression of his partner, who followed him willingly.

"Universe saved already?" His voice was low, but he knew the man would hear him.

"Never," was the laughing reply. Harry spun on his heels and worked his way through the tables, heading towards the parking lot. The man would follow.

"Harry?" The man placed a questioning hand to his forearm. Harry turned to look up at him.

"Why did you come back, Doctor?" His gaze never left the deliciously soothing comfort of those rich brown eyes. The man did not answer. The music filtered in slowly between them as Harry imagined all the words he knew they would and would never speak. He closed his eyes and waited. Always he waited. And it felt like spinning. Spinning and falling, faster and faster in a never ending dancing rhythm that reached it's crescendo when those few words finally answered.

"For you," His eyes snapped open as tender lips brushed lightly over his mouth. He wrapped his arms around the Doctor's neck and pulled him deeper. Too long. It had been far too long.

"How long have I been gone?" The Doctor asked when he pulled away.

"A thousand years, give or take a month," Harry replied breathlessly.

The Doctor laughed fondly, breathing in the scent of Harry's shampoo. He held on to the little wizard who refused to let him go.

"You know," The Doctor spoke up quietly, "You're my favorite anomaly,"

The human in his arms shuddered with laughter.

"I know," Was the soft reply.

AN:...This didn't actually go in the direction I was thinking about. And it's a lot shorter than I'm used to... but, I hope you like it. For all it's shortness. Might continue if I get more ideas for this crossover/pairing. See you next time!


	5. Prince's Bride HPxPB

AN:2.6.13: Moving this into the Trust Vault.

The Prince's Bride

AN: Okay, so this was inspired by MagnificentChaos the other day. She thought a HP/PB crossover would be hilarious. And I am willingly obliging, because I obviously have nothing else to write...(shifty eyes)...Any who, she was laughing because the characters work so well! And they do! But, as you know me, I only write yaoi...so Wesley's character is now gay. I'm so sorry Buttercup, but you'll just have to suffer. (evil cackles).

Enjoy!

AN2: Character list at the end! And sorry for the typo's. I wanted to get this up so I apologize for the mistakes my tired eyes have left after reading my own written work. I don't think I caught everything.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything! And I make no money off of this!

Warning: m/m pairings, future smut, future possible character death...some language...

_Ch 1: First Encounters_

Fleur was raised on a small farm in the country of Florin. Her favorite pastimes were riding her horse and tormenting the farm boy that worked there. His name was Harry. But, she never called him that (Isn't that a wonderful beginning?). Nothing gave Fleur as much pleasure as ordering young Harry around.

"Farm Boy! Polish my horse's saddle, I want to see my face shining in it by morning," Her pale blue eyes batted coyly.

"As you wish," The raven haired youth her father had saved from abusive relatives nodded, his gem-like green eyes winking. She twirled, her fair blonde hair whirling behind her, and trotted back to her house.

'As you wish' was all he ever said to her.

"Farm Boy, fill these with water." She set down two heavy buckets by the log where he chopped firewood. "Please," She looked up at him, noticing the gleam in his eye that made him seem almost beautiful (Because he was too feminine to be called handsome).

"As you wish," He replied lightly.

That day she was amazed to discover that when he was saying 'As you wish' what he meant was 'Thank you'. And even more amazing was the day she realized that she thought of him as her little brother.

"Farm Boy," Fleur stopped him from leaving. He turned to look at her, a question in his smiling green eyes. "Fetch me that pitcher,"

"As you wish," He said softly, a light smile hooking the ends of his lips. She smiled at him, her little brother.

On Harry's twelfth birthday he received a letter from his deceased parent's lawyer that explained his origins and rights to title and land in a far off country. So he packed his few belongings and left the farm to seek his fortune across the sea. It was a very emotional time for Fleur, who loved her little brother with all her protective heart.

"I fear I'll never see you again," She whispered hoarsely, clutching him to her in a tight embrace.

"Of course you will,"

"But, what if something happens to you?" Fleur had heard awful stories of pirates and monsters and brigands.

"Hear this, now, I will always come for you," He pulled away and stared at her with his deep green eyes.

"But, how can you be sure?" He looked so vulnerable.

"We're siblings, you think I'll give up when I know you're waiting for me?" His eyes lit with a small passionate fire. He coaxed a small smile from her with his own and kissed her tenderly on the forehead, before grabbing his bag and leaving.

Harry didn't reach his destination. His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Regulus Black, who never left captives alive. When Fleur got the news that Harry was murdered, she went into her room and shut the door. And for days she neither slept nor ate.

"I will never love again," She told herself as she stared bleakly out the window.

8

Five years later the main square of Florin City was filled as never before, to hear the announcement of the great Prince Krum's bride to be. Jester's played for coin, children ran with festive glee, there were sweet meats and candies and laughter that filled the air with boisterous joy. Trumpets blared as the Prince himself stepped upon his balcony to address the people.

"My people," He said in a deep, throaty voice. "A month from now, our country will have it's five-hundredth anniversary! On that sundown, I shall marry a lady who was once a commoner like yourselves. But perhaps, you will not find her common now." All eyes gazed up at the Prince, standing beside his elderly parents who were both pleased with his bride. Also by him was his famed adviser. Lord Voldemort, a man revered and feared by all who knew him. "Would you like to meet her?"

A unified cheer of 'Yes' sprung from the waiting crowd.

"My people," Krum smiled victoriously, "The Princess, Fleur!" He held out a hand to her.

Fleur walked forward in her white dress, feeling awkward, uncomfortable and miserable. She watched as people she knew to be her equal knelt in her presence. This was not what she wanted. She wanted her Harry. The only joy and light she'd ever known. She turned to look up at her Prince, who held such glee she did not deserve.

Her emptiness consumed her. And, though the law of the land gave Krum the right to choose his bride, she did not love him.

Despite Krum's reassurance that she would grow to love him, or perhaps find a consort, the only joy she found was in her daily ride. It was on her ride that she happened upon two strange men and a bitchy young woman. She paused, her soft red dress billowing about her at the abrupt stop.

"A word, my Lady," The young woman asked, her dark eyes looking up pleadingly. The woman's face was foreign, a traveler, Fleur assumed, of Asian decent if she had to guess. Her long dark hair fell prettily around her face. Beside her was a well built young man with tawny brown hair cut handsomely to his face and deep grey eyes. Beside him was a large, burly man with thick locks of black hair that flowed into and merged with his well established beard. "We are but poor lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?"

"There is nothing nearby, not for miles," Fleur shook her head softly her eyes resting on the tawny haired man whom she knew Harry would have liked instantly.

"Then there will be no one to hear you scream," The woman hissed with a devilish grin. The tall burly man walked forward with a slight grimace on his lips and pinched her neck just as she began to squeal.

8

Cedric Diggory, the tawny haired young man who accompanied Cho Chang and Rubeus Hagrid looked glumly at their charge. She was pretty, and he guessed that was why the Prince had deigned to marry her. Though he suspected that it had more to do with Krum's ailing parents who wanted grandchildren before the good King passed and his son took over. Though there had been rumors of Krum taking in a young consort before the announcement of the engagement. And Cedric couldn't help but wonder if she had been it or if the man had kept his lover and her separated.

"What is that you are ripping?" He asked Cho, watching the cunning woman as she tore off the patch of a red coat.

"It's fabric from the uniform of an Army officer of Gilder," She replied sharply.

"Who's Gilder?" Hagrid asked, still holding the unconscious form of the lady Princess.

"The country across the sea. The sworn enemy of Florin," Cho looked at Hagrid sharply, her black eyes telling any who looked how stupid she thought her companions were. "Go," She smacked the hind leg of Princess Fleur's horse and walked onto the ship. "Once the horse reaches the castle the fabric will make the Prince suspect that the Gildarians have abducted his love," She smiled smugly to herself. "When he finds her body, dead, on the Gilder frontier his suspicions will be totally confirmed,"

"You never said anything about killing anyone," Hagrid took a step forward, murder never settled right with him.

"I've hired you to help me start a war!" Cho stared him down, "It's a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition."

"I just don't think it's right, killing an innocent girl," Hagrid replied gruffly.

"Am I going mad?" Cho asked herself, stepping angrily towards the half-giant. "Or did the word 'think' escape your lips? You were not hired for your brains, you hippocratic land mass!"

"I agree with Hagrid!" Cedric finally spoke up, hopping over the ship's rail now that he had successfully un-moared the thing. His sense of fairness was deeply rooted, after all, it was instilled by his beloved father.

"Oh, the sob has spoken!" Cho whirled on him, anger flashing, she marched toward him. "What happens to her is not truly your concern! _I_ will kill her! And remember this," She hissed and cornered him. "_NEVER_ forget this! When I found you, you were so slobbering drunk you couldn't buy _brandy_!" Her sharp nail dug into his chest as she prodded him with her finger. That stung his pride a bit. Yes, he drank. And he may have had a bit too much and indulged in some heavier liquor because his memories were coming in a bit too sharply that evening...and the last three weeks...but, she didn't need to shove it in his face and smear it in!

"And you!" She turned back to Hagrid in full tirade. "Friendless, Brainless, Helpless, Hopeless! Do you want me to send you back to where you _were_? Unemployed! In Greenland!"

Cedric watched as she stormed off to do...whatever it was she actually did, since the running of the ship was left to him and Hagrid. He traipsed over to Hagrid with a soft friendly smile on his face.

"Cho, she can fas,"

"Fas? Fas...Think she'd like to swim, alas!" Hagrid beamed.

"Probably, she means no harm,"

"She's running very short on charm!"

"You've a great gift for rhyme!" Cedrid threw him a warm smile.

"Yes, yes, some of the time,"

"Enough of that!" Cho shrieked.

"Hagrid! Are their rocks ahead?" Cedric asked.

"If there are, we all be dead!"

"No more rhymes now! I mean it!" Cho's voice was shrill as they pulled away from shore.

"Anybody want a peanut?" Hagrid chuckled lightly.

Cho screamed in furry. _Men!_ She growled under her breath.

8

The night wind carried them well across the shimmery water, a full pale moon gracing the sky. Cedric turned to look behind them every once in awhile, there was another ship following them. He _knew_ it. He could see it there just a mile or so behind them.

"We'll reach the cliffs by dawn," Cho sounded proud of herself. But she was also a bit aggravated. "Why do you keep doing that?" She hissed at Cedric.

"Making sure no one is following us," Cedric asked, knowing she'd probably explode when he said it. She surprised him.

"That would be inconceivable," She waved it off without a second thought.

"Despite what you think, you will be caught," Fleur spoke up for the first time. "And when you are the Prince will see you all hanged!"

"Of all the necks on this boat, _Highness_, the one you should be worrying about is your own," Cho sniffed at her contemptuously. Cedric turned to look at the ship again.

"Stop doing that!" Cho growled. "We can all relax, it's almost over!"

"You are sure no one is following us?" Cedric asked hesitantly.

"As I told you!" Cho smiled at him with a look that made her thoughts on his IQ level obvious, "It would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable! No one in Gilder knows what we've done! And no one in Florin could have gotten here so fast!" She crossed her arms looking like a self appointed goddess among men, her head leaning back, eyes shut. "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?" She slid her eyes open to glare at him.

"I just -" Cedric shrugged, "I just happened to look behind us and something is there," He shrugged again, flipping his hand as if to erase the words as he said them.

"What?" Cho's voice was a slight whisper as she got up to join him. Her sharp eyes locating the white flag on the horizon behind them. "Probably some...local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise, at night, through...eel infested waters..." She sounded uncertain and a bit hysterical. A splash sounded behind them and they wheeled to find the source. The Princess had dived in.

"Go in! Get after her!" Cho shouted.

"I don't swim," Cedric shrugged, helplessly. Correction, he didn't swim for self appointed bitchy twats. Cho turned to Hagrid.

"I only dog paddle," Hagrid shook his head. Cho shrieked helplessly and fought the urge to kill them.

"Veer left!" She yelled to her stupid crew. "Left. Left!"

The eery shrieks that filled the air sent shivers down Cedric's spine. They were like wraiths, the sound of those shrieks, rising through the night from the depths of the sea.

"Do you know what that sound is, _Highness_?" Cho asked, "Those are the shrieking eels! If you don't believe me, just wait! They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human flesh!" Something seemed to swim by her face. "If you swim back now, I promise, no harm will come to you, I doubt you'll get such an offer from the eels." Cho's voice was as harsh as winter hail. All the time the eels got closer and closer to Fleur, until one finally charged. Hagrid smashed his fist on the thing's slimy head, not waiting to see if the foul creature was out before hauling the soggy Princess from the water.

"Put her down. Just put her down," Cho said roughly. Cedric took another look behind them, now that _that_ excitement was done for the evening.

"I think he's getting closer," He finally said, judging the distance between their two ships.

"He's no concern of ours," Cho commented flippantly, "Sail on!" She turned back to the Princess. "I suppose you think you're brave, don't you?"

"Only compared to some," Fleur replied coolly holding the woman's angry gaze.

8

The dawn was a welcome sight to Cedric, who was now able to see more accurately where he was sailing. He chanced another look at their pursuer.

"Look! He's right on top of us!" Cedric supplied for the irritated Cho. "I wonder if he is using the same wind we are using..." He mused to himself.

"Who ever he is, he's too late!" Cho crowed gleefully, "See!" She pointed a bit too enthusiastically at the sheer cliffs ahead. "The Cliffs of Insanity! Hurry up! Move the thing, and that other thing!" She was obviously no sailor. "Move it!"

They docked alongside a small shore.

"We're safe," Cho preened, "Only Hagrid is strong enough to go up our way. He'll have to sail around for hours 'till he finds a harbor!" Cedric helped Hagrid into the leather jerkin that held straps for three people to sit on as he climbed. Then he helped the Princess into hers, trying to convey with his eyes his apology that needed to be said but couldn't be spoken aloud. Cho's way wasn't playing fair, and Cedric was a firm believer in fair play. He situated himself into his strap and clung to Hagrid's side as the half-giant began to climb. After several minutes he looked down to see their pursuer climbing quickly up after them.

"He's climbing the rope," Cedric said nonchalantly to inform his companions. "And he's gaining on us,"

"Inconceivable," Cho muttered as if dazed. "Faster!" She turned vicious all of a sudden. Cedric blocked out the pursuing argument that followed Hagrid's explanation. Cho was insatiable.

Cedric heaved himself over the side of the cliff awkwardly, helping to pull the Princess and Cho up after he made it over. Cho immediately began to cut through the thick rope with her short knife. Cedric watched, a bit agonized as the rope slid across the ground and disappeared over the edge. He really didn't want to look at the grim mess that waited over the edge of that cliff, but he had to know. He peeked over, and inwardly sighed when he saw the man clinging to the side of the cliffs.

"He's got very good arms," Hagrid said appreciatively from his side.

"He didn't fall?" Cho joined them, shrieking. "Inconceivable!"

"You keep using that word," Cedric mused, turning to look at her. "I do not think it means what you think it means," He turned back to look at the man and almost gasped. "My god, he's climbing!"

"Who ever he is, he's obviously seen us with the Princess and must therefore die." Cho said, "You," She turned to Hagrid, "Carry her," Turning back to Cedric she plotted. "We'll head straight for the Gilder frontier, catch up when he's dead. If he falls, fine, if not, the sword," She hissed, before turning away to leave.

"I'm going to duel him left handed," Cedric confessed.

"You know what a hurry we're in!" Cho growled.

"It's the only way I can be satisfied! If I use my right, it's over too quickly," Cedric shrugged.

"Oh, have it you're way," Cho sighed in frustration and waved him away, stalking off.

Cedric went back to the ledge to watch the man's ascent. Hagrid's hand landed lightly on his shoulder.

"You be careful," Hagrid warned, "People in masks cannot be trusted," Cedric nodded and looked back at the stranger.

"I'm waiting!" Cho growled, annoyance wringing out of her words.

Cedric turned to watch Hagrid, the Princess and Cho leave. He practiced with an invisible sword in his left hand for a moment and then went back to the ledge.

"Hello there!" He called down, watching as the man looked up at him, "Slow going?"

"Look," The masked stranger said wearily, "I don't mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it looks. So I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't distract me."

"Sorry," Cedric apologized.

"Thank you," The man replied.

Cedric went back and pulled out his rapier, practicing some basic perries and thrusts. But he quickly became bored and went back to the ledge.

"I don't suppose you could speed things up?" He called.

"If you're in such a hurry you could lower a rope or a tree branch or find something useful to do,"

"I can do that!" Cedric brightened, "I've still got some rope up here. But I do not think you would accept my help, since I am only waiting around to kill you."

"That does put a damper on our relationship," The stranger replied. Cedric couldn't help it when his heart seemed to stop the moment he saw those green eyes winking up at him through the mask of the man that was close enough to see.

"But, I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top," Cedric breathed out.

"That's very comforting," The man replied sarcastically, "But, I'm afraid you'll just have to wait,"

"I hate waiting." Cedric muttered, and he heard the other chuckle lightly as he walked away. The turned back. "I could give you my word, as an Englishman!"

"No!" The man grunted, "No good, I've known too many English,"

"Is there anyway you'd trust me?"

"Nothing comes to mind,"

"I swear, on the soul of my father, Amos Diggory, you will reach the top alive."

"Throw me the rope," The man said.

Cedric grabbed a good length of the rope and tossed it over to the man. Helping pull the length up as the man climbed the rest of the way up the cliffs.

"Thank you," The man sighed, stumbling forward and drawing his sword from his back.

"W – we – We'll wait until you are ready," Cedric stopped him.

"Again, thank you," The man nodded and ambled over to a rock to sit. Cedric sat across from him, waiting patiently as the man pulled off his boots and dumped out large stones from inside them.

"I do not mean to pry," Cedric hesitated momentarily, "But, you don't, by any chance, happen to have six fingers on your right hand?"

"Do you always begin conversations this way?" Those deep green eyes looked up to stare at him again.

"My father was slaughtered by a six fingered man," Cedric said quietly. The stranger looked at him as if he'd just been slapped in the face and then held up his right hand to show only five digits. Cedric nodded, a bit sad at not finding the man, again.

"He was a great sword maker, my father," Cedric said lightly. "When the six fingered man appeared and request a special sword, my father took the job." Cedric pulled the blade from his hip and showed it to the man, who held it reverently.

"I've never seen it's equal," The stranger said, handing it back.

"Six fingered man returned and demanded it. But, at one tenth his promised price. My father refused. Without a word the six fingered man slashed him through the heart. I loved my father. So naturally I challenged his murderer to a duel. I failed. The six fingered man left me alive. But, he gave me these," Cedric turned his face slightly to show the man the two scars on his left face. One that followed his cheekbone down his face, the other a slash over his throat.

"How old were you?"

"I was eleven years old. When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing. So the next time we meet, I will not fight. I will go up to the six fingered man and say;" Cedric got a far off gleam in his eye, "Hello, my name is Cedric Diggory, you killed my father. Prepare to die."

"You've done nothing but study sword play?"

"More pursue than a study, lately. You see, I cannot find him. It has been twenty years and I have started to lose confidence. I just work for Cho to pay the bills, there's not a lot of money in revenge," Cedric shrugged.

"Well, I – I certainly hope you find him, one day," the stranger said, standing and drawing his sword. Cedric followed eagerly.

"You are ready then?"

"Whether I am or not, you've been more than fair," The stranger smiled at him from under his mask, it was a dazzling sight.

"You seem a decent fellow," Cedric smiled back at him, feeling his heart race at the sight of that smile. "I hate to kill you,"

"You seem a decent fellow," The man replied, his smile dimming to a sly grin. "I hate to die,"

"Begin,"

And with that Cedric started the duel. A duel that took his breath away, made him gasp at surprises he wasn't expecting and respect a man he'd only just barely met whose name he didn't even know. A duel that left him aching and sore. A duel that left him nursing a pounding headache, a wounded pride, and a very unrequited crush on a mysterious young man in a mask.

8

Ending AN: Alright, leaving it there for now. My arms hurt from typing, I don't know about you but, when I type I use my shoulders, and they are hurting now. Hehe, I love Cedry, and MC totally agrees with this pairing for this story, she's so awesome!

Buttercup – Fleur Delacour

Humperdink – Viktor Krum

Wesley – Harry Potter

Inego – Cedric Diggory

Fesic – Rubeus Hagrid

Vicini – Cho Chang

Miracle Max – Neville Longbottom

Max's wife – Luna Lovegood

Humperdink's Guard (*cough*Lover*cough*) – Ronald Weasley

Six Fingered Man – Voldemort

Albino – Draco Malfoy


	6. The ne Who Loves Death HPxLR

AN:2.6.13: Moving into the Trust Vault.

**The One Who Loves Death**

AN: Okay, so I've been hooked on HP/LotR Crossovers for a week or so and I thought I might like to try writing one. So here goes nothing. Just kidding. I did a TON and a half of research to write this to make sure I didn't mess up anything for you hardcore Tolkien fans. And I really did try my hardest. I don't have a copy of The Lost Tales Volume I or II. And all of my historical, pre War of the Ring writing will be taken from the vagueness of the Silmarillion which is really good for setting up characters, land and races for anyone who's interested in checking it out. So there's my resources.

First chapter is just the basic background. Chapter two will continue more in depth with the story line I've plotted out.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own anything you recognize. The land of Arda belongs to JRR Tolkien and Harry Potter's background belongs to JK Rowling.

Warning: m/m pairing (obviously...), implied sex, future mpreg (but it's so minimal to the plot line you could probably just skip over it if it's not something your into.)

_The Dreams of Death_

Deep in the safe haven of Lothlórien, beneath the green trees and the golden sun, far below the roots of the ancient _Mallorns_ there is a single tunnel. It is the only one of it's kind. It leads far into the heart of the earth into the darkness most would fear. Emptiness that swallows all sound and light and hope. It is a place of sorrow. A place of loss. Deep in the safe haven of Lothlórien, beneath the golden leaves and the deep blue skies, far below the flora of the forest floor is the resting place of Death.

His hair is purest black that flows over pale-as-moon skin. His features are sharp and would be considered elven in nature if it weren't for his Man-like ears with their soft rounded curve. Small of stature, but more fearsome than a Balrog, he holds much power within his thin hands. If taken for his looks, he could be no more than a mortal of seventeen. But many summers had passed before his eyes until he finally lay himself to rest.

In the darkest place in Lothlórien lay the ever sleeping Immortal Man who guides the souls of the elves to their final home in Valanor.

His name had been Harry, once. In another place far from that of Arda. And with that name many heavy responsibilities came. A boy-child to vanquish evil, a hero of only eleven. How blind were Men and mortals to see him as he had been. Nothing more than a tool to be used and then hidden away. After the defeat of his enemy he was faced with eternity alone. A future he had never wanted. A curse.

Years spanned before his eyes. He watched his once-home wither and decay with time and neglect. Mourned as the sky grew hazed and blurred with the products of mortals. Withered and curled inside himself as his power as a guide for the souls of Earth was abused and over used.

~o~

_Harry sat meekly in his chair at the window. Watching the London lights that managed to cut through the smog and smoke. His dazed green eyes watched nothing as his consciousness was spread too thin around the world. He could feel himself tearing into pieces as he was thinned and stretched and misused. He barely registered the presence that appeared behind him. A soft hand that tugged him gently back into himself and allowed for intelligent thought._

_Harry turned to get a good look at the intruder, cloaked in stars, face concealed in the recesses of a hood the man spoke with beautiful words, soft and kind._

_'A Guide. We have need of one to direct the souls of our dead. Great wars have been prophesied and we have no Guide. Your master has been abusing your service, his work is lax and few while you have almost broken. Come with me to Arda, rest with us for a time. We offer you home and comfort. Anything you wish is yours. Come with me to Arda. The place we ask you to serve is far smaller than this place. Come. Please, come with me.' He spoke for a time, and Harry agreed. The small, warm smile that graced his lips was well worth it._

_London slipped away like a leaf on a fast current, nothing remained of it's existence and his reality was abruptly changed._

~o~

While in the company of the Ainur, before they created Arda, they named him Marcaunon, Lord of the Eternal Home. They were glad of his presence, the first of Ilúvatar's children, the first of Man. And he resided with them until they descended into Arda to create the plains of mortals. Deep were his hurts from the past none yet knew, but he was soothed by Ilúvatar and the Ainur. After many years that are unimaginable to the Children of Ilúvatar, Marcaunon made ready to join the Valar and Valier in Arda. Then Ilúvatar gifted him with his hearts greatest desire.

~o~

_'Little Lord,' Ilúvatar smiled at him warmly, 'I have heard of your one time wish of years since passed.' Marcaunon cocked his head to the side, an appearance the Ainur had all come to mean he was slightly confused._

_'I heard that at one time you wished for family,' The One explained._

_'At one time, yes,' Marcaunon agreed. 'Now, if I have family, they will pass before my eyes and leave me broken,' The Immortal Man shuddered._

_'I will awaken the Elves,' He said with a slight smile. 'And they live for eternity. They are immortal, but not undying like you.' Marcaunon watched the man carefully._

_'Yes, there is just one problem,' He finally admitted._

_'Of this I know,' The smile grew, indulgently. 'After so many years you have difficulty seeing love in any form but familial from a woman. Nothing romantic ever springs from such a vision.' Marcaunon nodded, it was truth. 'This is why I make this gift to you,' There was a slight pressure against his stomach and then it was gone._

_'I...do not understand...' Marcaunon furrowed his brows, thoroughly lost._

_'I gift to you the ability of giving life. Inside of you may grow a child if a favorable union occurs. If it is forced or unwanted you will be as barren as the deserts.' Ilúvatar explained lightly._

_Marcaunon stared with a mixture of shock and bewilderment._

_'I...I can carry a child?' He placed a light hand to his stomach._

_'Yes, As a way to express our gratitude for your assistance in the future I went in search of a suitable gift. Estë told me of your long-since abandoned desire for family. And I hope now you may find happiness,'_

_'Thank you,' Marcaunon stammered lightly, he had never known his superiors to be generous and kind before. It was the first step to recovery._

~o~

When Arda was complete and Melkor still brooded in his dark thoughts, Marcaunon descended into Arda where he took upon himself his original appearance. And the Children of Ilúvatar would know him as Amarthir, Lord of Death, the Immortal Man, Westrion and others besides these. They call him the son of Námo and Vairë, though he is no kin of the Ainur. And when he descended into Arda his past was brought to light within all the thoughts of the Ainur and there was deep sorrow in the heart Nienna. He was known to dwell with Lórien and Estë where her healing soothed the scars of old. But it was Melkor who envisioned the pain of Marcaunon with hope and darkness in his soul. And as he'd done with the crafts of the other Ainur, he sought to destroy the peace of Estë's healing.

In this one instance Manwë perceived his brothers thoughts and Ulmo made quick to hide away the first of their beloved. Deep within the depths of Ulmo's oceans the Immortal Child was left to heal and sleep until the coming days when he was needed. For it was in the seas that Melkor feared greatly, and all the while Marcaunon slept idle to the world.

And this was before the sundering of the Elves, and of his resting place beneath the waves they knew not, and feared greatly of him though none knew his purpose. As all of his hiding was before the thought of Time, and he was concealed before the making of the Lamps and the Spring of Arda, and knew not the beauty of Valinor nor the light that rained from the Two Trees of Valinor.

As with all the Valar he knew not the full thoughts of Ilúvatar and was counted not amongst them by them as he was strangely different and not a being of Ilúvatar at all. For when his knowledge was passed upon his crossing to Arda it was of his birth and trials they learned and all his deeds came to light in their mind. And it was of him they cherished with respect and love as family but with no connection to them he had. And though his appearance was as of Those That Follow, the Men whom follow the creation of the Elves, he was not of the thoughts of Ilúvatar or of any of the Valar or Maiar. He was as separate as the blossom from the evergreen. But still they loved him.

So within his slumber beneath the waves he saw before him all that Ilúvatar had shown to the Ainur and all that the Valar would make and all that the Children would pass through while they were yet as children and child. And for them he wept beneath the sea and because he wept great compassion filled the heart of Ulmo who cherished him as son. But of this the Children knew not and so it was never put to song or spoken of above the waves where Ulmo resides, for his association with death was great.

It was many years before the waking of the First Born did rouse him from his sleep. And with sadness he resumed his council upon the land of Arda. Wary of the darkness of Melkor and the fear of the First. But with the light of Varda set as stars in the sky he knew that the Children would be well. It was with wary hesitance that he took up the side with Oromë and visited first with the Children whom were called the Quendi by themselves and Ilúvatar, but known to Oromë as the Eldar in their own tongue and known to Marcaunon as the Elves. It was with them he tarried while Oromë ran swiftly to council with the Valar and he who quelled many fears placed in their heart about their crossing to Valinor. For it was as with all the gifts of the Valar that Melkor cursed and twisted into his own nefarious schemes and the vision of death they greatly feared.

But as Oromë convinced the Quendi to migrate with him to the west with aid from the three leaders whom had seen the light of the Two Trees, Marcaunon excused himself from the trek and disappeared once more into the depths of the sea, until a time as he was truly needed to guide them across to Valinor are their death.

And thusly he missed many of their struggles in the beginning as they counted the first of Time and Age and began to make themselves more into one people. When again he rose from the waters he journeyed to a place of quiet and peace and settled with the ones known as the Grey-elves, born of Melian and Thingol. But among them he did not find what he hoped, but with them he stayed.

Marcaunon watched the world age and grow, through terror and Time. Through learning and grief. And it was with love and an aching heart that he watched the passage of the Age.

Then was born unto Rían of Men a boy-child in the forests of Mithrim near the hills where the Grey-elves dwelt. And his name was Tuor, whom was taken to raise by Annael of the Grey-elves. Twas with much care and tenderness that this child of Man was raised by them under the caring eyes of Annael and Marcaunon who now dwelt among them as Amarthir.

When Tuor had reached the certain age of sixteen it came to the elves to make for the safe haven of Sirion, but during their flight they were set upon by Orcs and Easterlings from Hithlum. During the brutal attack Tuor and Amarthir, both, were taken captive. The first as a whim the latter as a confusion. For both looked like men but the latter did not die when pierced with any weapon made by Easterling nor Orc. And so came to pass the years of their enslavement under Lorgan, Chief of the Easterlings of Hithlum.

~o~

_Amarthir waited in agony in the chamber he was stowed like so much excess grain. The bare earthen floor and stone walls locked him in a darkness he did not wish. For all his service to Ilúvatar and the guidance he gave to the First of the Children, he was left with vague little to perform on. His magic he had long since ceased using. He shuddered to wonder what had been done with Tuor, whom Ulmo had sent whispers of to him. The Sea-King had fate for the little Man and Amarthir had to get the child out of this place. He grimace when he heard the sound of the bars open and his captor approached. The swarthy, dark-haired man with coal eyes gave nothing away on his face. And it was with great effort that Amarthir kept his mind from dredging up painful scars from a past long gone of Men much like Lorgan._

_The Chief of the Easterlings smiled cruelly down at him, producing a long knife which he set beside Amarthir with delicacy. And it was sick dread that had his mind knowing what the man wished of him again._

_'Give up, now, in those thoughts. For I am not of you and will never consent.' Amarthir spat hatefully, his still green eyes glaring from under black bangs._

_'Pity,' Was the Man's only response as he crouched in front of the Man-like captive who didn't die. He traced a gloved finger down the side of Amarthir's face receiving a shiver of terror and the snap of teeth near his hand. 'Now, now.' the Man chuckled to himself, gripping his chin to prevent Amarthir from biting off his fingers. 'If only you behaved, little one,'_

_Amarthir's eyes narrowed and his throat built up a growl behind his restrained jaw._

_'Never,' He hissed through his teeth._

_'What could I offer to show you my intentions are not ill-founded?' The Chief asked, dark eyes contemplative. Amarthir made to snap at him but a whisper came to his mind. Something that was not wholly pure, for deceit was in this and cunning too. But, it could very well save Tuor and that was his goal. But did he place saving the Man above his honor? The answer was a simple yes._

_'What of Tuor?' He asked, gazing hollowly at the Easterling.'What of my companion whom you also captured on our way to Sirion?' The Chief's eyes lit with recognition of the one he spoke._

_'He is fine,' the Man replied._

_'I do not believe you,' Amarthir narrowed his eyes._

_'If I moved him here, to prove he is fine, then would you submit to me?' The Easterling watched him with thinly disguised hope._

_'I would think more on it,' Amarthir dropped his gaze and looked away from the vile Man. Shuddering at the thought of ever thinking such things about him._

_Several hours later Tuor was brought to live within his chambers, though both were restrained and made no move to speak until they were well and truly alone. And then they planned escape. For well over two years had passed in their enslavement and the time was drawing nigh to Ulmo's bidding hour. So with what little strength he had, gathering as much will as he could spare, every day belaying the Easterling Chief with promises of a future they would never have and willing the man into comfort. Until finally the day arrived and they escaped from that dreaded place._

~o~

For four years after their escape they made themselves the bane of Lorgan's existence, shredding his army as thin and useless as they could. And when Ulmo called Tuor to his great task, it was with pride he followed the young Man to the empty places long abandoned by the shores and towards the great city of Gondolin. For this city he had never seen.

It was in Vinyamar when Ulmo spoke unto the Man that Tuor learned of Amarthir and whom his companion was. The only one of the Valar who stayed tied to Middle Earth of his own choosing to live amongst the Children of Ilúvatar. And also of him learned Voronwë, son of Aranwë. And so enamored was he with the great task set upon Tuor by Ulmo that he did not deny his guidance to the hidden place of Gondolin. And as Winter turned it's mighty head upon Middle Earth they departed eastward under the Mountains of Shadow.

When once, at last, they came upon the fine gates, and thereby the city, they were accosted by guards and led towards the place of their seeking. Upon seeing the arms carried from Vinyamar on Tuor did they believe he the fated messenger from Ulmo. But, speaking with Turgon, son of Fingolfin and High King of the Noldor, produced no action to move on account of the Elves, whom loved their hidden city and whose King had grown prideful in it's safety.

So it came to pass that the city of Gondolin was shut from the outside and it's ears turned deaf to the woe of their siblings, though Amarthir felt it all within his heart as he crossed to Valinor with Thingol whom he had loved as one loves a brother, and Dior his son, and of the Ruin of Doriath he learned and wept in vain for the Children whom he loved. And it was in his time with the Noldor that he met the one whom his heart loved ever most and there was when he fell.

Upon their first meeting they became wary friends, one a warrior too long waiting in peace-time and quiet, the other weary of death and pain and too hopeful for a future without such things. But it was in their slight differences that they bonded quickly and spent many awhile amidst the others presence. But, of Amarthir the Elf knew little and was at once awakened to the Immortal Man's condition by a passing comment of Tuor. And thus it was that Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, Chief Lieutenant of Turgon, fell in love with Death.

But, Amarthir's heart was guarded and with him he carried the burden of a loveless life. So when the Elf Lord did announce his feelings to the not-Man, Amarthir quickly denied with trepidation and hesitance in his mind. But, Glorfindel continued his wooing with persistence for several years until, a day after the union between Tuor and Idril Celebrindal, Amarthir gave in and consented to seeking this strangeness to him which was called love. For many years, after the birth of Eärendil Halfelven, Glorfindel waited; patiently with kind words and caring ever forefront in his mind and with soft hands and sweet words on his tongue. And it came to pass that Amarthir found himself with feelings deeper than any he had know towards the Elf Lord and far diverse from those he felt for all of Ilúvatar's children.

Thus came the night he confessed of his returned affection to Glorfindel.

~o~

_Amarthir sat quietly beside the Elf Lord. Watching the waters of the Great Fountain as they fell peacefully. His stomach was clenched for no reason of which he knew, and it frightened him how strange these feelings were. But, Glorfindel had waited patiently for these feelings he now had, and Amarthir felt that the Elf deserved an answer to his affection. He turned to gaze up at the Lord and gave a small smile when the Elf looked back at him with kindness and tenderness in his grey, grey eyes._

_'Glorfindel,' He began slowly, feeling his shoulder lean into the Elf's arm. 'You once told me many years past that you loved me.'_

_The Elf Lord nodded, his face betraying nothing of the anxiousness he felt._

_'You waited patiently beside me, and I respect you ever for that. And I offer to you, if you would still have it, my heart. Which once you so desired. For I think I have discovered this thing which you say is love' For the briefest of moments Amarthir thought Glorfindel would not want him now and he turned away, only to find a gentle palm pressed to his cheek._

_He turned back to the Elf, seeing the relieved and loving smile that graced the Elf-man's face. The rough thumb of the Lord grazed slow and gentle across his cheekbone and Amarthir closed his eyes to the love that flowed through the simple touch. It was comfortable and soothing, and all things he felt in the presence of Glorfindel. With no hesitance the Elf brought his face down to Amarthir's and dipped his head until their lips met simply. The kiss was chaste, but full of all the things that Glorfindel wished within the deepest parts of his soul. And without his usual wariness of any thing so deep that he was uncertain of, Amarthir found himself falling far into the kiss unknowingly. It deepened and lingered and sent them panting away from each other after a moment, only to resume once their breath half returned. And in his heart he wondered if this was devised, also, of Ilúvatar; whose plan he still could not picture, complete._

_With love in their hearts and nothing but bright future in their mind, they journeyed off to Glorfindel's fine chambers and there committed wholly to one another._

~o~

This was how the Lord of Death fell deeply. And into love he allowed himself to be. And they were happy for many days after their commitment until all the Noldor were betrayed by the petty whims of Maeglin whose heart was corrupted by Melkor, now known as Morgoth.

For there descended into Gondolin the masses of Morgoth's armies bent on destroying the Noldor and finding Amarthir whom Maeglin told his new master of. For it was in the mind of Morgoth that Amarthir could still be twisted and his pain become a tool of his corruption and evil doings. But, as was with Idril's perceptiveness that she had prepared a secret place with which to escape the armies of Morgoth. And with Tuor and Idril and Eärendil Amarthir sent Glorfindel whom he wished to protect the family of his Man friend. But it was as Amarthir departed from his beloved that Morgoth ensnared the Immortal Man and caused him great pain within the walls of Gondolin as it fell before the chaos of darkness and death. For in so much death was Amarthir's spirit sent forth to direct the dead to the shores of Valinor.

Oblivious to the fate of his beloved, Glorfindel hurried with the small remnants of the Elves of Gondolin from his home, and did not look back for he trusted Amarthir with all his heart. But it was far later than he had expected when they came out of the tunnel and Amarthir had not joined with them as they had planned. But then his mind was trapped as they made way over the mountains for they were assailed by Orcs and with them came a fearsome creature made of evil and flame. A Balrog. And with the mighty evil Glorfindel fought with all he had, for he was strongest in their party. But, only in one way could he hope to vanquish his foe, and greatly did he think of his consequences. For in a swift moment he caught the eyes of Tuor and then hurtled himself at the Fell Beast and tumbled them both into the gorge, leaving only the Orcs with which to deal.

And it was with an eagle's piercing screech and Amarthir's name upon his lips that his last thoughts were of his love and then he was blissful in death.

Amarthir curled away from the ruinous hands of his captor, his mind clinging to the one thing he loved most that protected him and shielded his thoughts. And then in his consciousness he met with a small group of those he had seen depart from Gondolin, and amongst them was whom he had feared for. Glorfindel stood amongst the party as he called for their guided ship, and with a heavy heart he wept at the sight of the Elf Lord in their presence and could not speak words. Outside of his mind his body filled with a power he had stopped using since his arrival in Arda, and his magic stirred more fully than any time before his crossing here at the will of Ilúvatar.

Frightened of the strange but seductive power that wrapped itself tightly about his captive Morgoth was both awed and terrified of it. But, still he desired for it. Power was his self pronounced right, and controlling Amarthir would make him far stronger than he had previous dreamed. Deciding his mind he approached the Immortal Child with desire in his eyes and sharpened words that would break the child quickly to his bidding.

But, it was never to be. For in Death, all peace is found and all knowledge attained. And darkness can not dwell within it. So it was unto deafened ears his hateful words fell and a blind eye his tactics used. And when he was finished speaking, the power of Death moved to strangle him. And that was how Morgoth came to see the Immortal Child vanish with a soft sound that echoed of the music of the Ainur.

And at Tuor's side he appeared, shaking and shuddering and his heart filled with pain he had not known so deeply for many an Age. And it was in Nan-tathren beneath the willows that Ulmo heard his child weep and the Children of Ilúvatar sing of the death of many and the Fall of Gondolin and amongst those were the laments dearest to his son's heart. And it was of the songs of Glorfindel the Golden-haired that wounded deeply his child. And later it was that Tuor and Idril beckoned him to accompany them south down the river to the Mouth of Sirion where they met with Elwing, Dior's daughter.

Many years passed as the longing for the sea grew deep within Tuor and at an old age he passed with Idril into the waters and joined with those of the Noldor in Valinor, for Amarthir himself, guided them, together. And it was Tuor alone, of Men, who was separated from the fate of Men and given to him a place amongst the Elves whom he loved.

Eärendil, under the companionship of his father's friend Amarthir, wed Elwing whom he loved and produced twins Elrond and Elros almost ten years passed. But he too felt his father's pull to the water and built himself a ship with which he sailed. And it was during this time that Amarthir grew close and fond of his children but, guarded himself closely against the pain of loss.

When Elrond and Elros were but six the Sons of Fëanor, Maedros and Maglor, attacked the Mouth of Sirion. Amarthir watched with trepidation as Elwing cast herself with the Silmaril into the sea and was pleased when Ulmo carried her to Eärendil. But Elrond and Elros were still with him and them he must protect.

But he feared little when Maedros and Maglor but offered to take them up. And with them he resided and helped them grow and learn. But, his heart was always heavy and his days filled with sadness that, were he but of Elf kind, he would Fade away until his soul was amongst those in Valinor and he would accompany his beloved Glorfindel. So he watched over them for a time, until at last the thought of waking was great and terrible and he could not bear to face the day without Glorfindel.

And thus, Death took up his eternal sleep beneath the trees of Lothlórien by the gentle guidance of Galadriel and Celeborn whom care for and tend the land with peace and love.

And this was the young journeys of Death and his fated love, and of the death of Glorfindel and the fall of Gondolin. And now there rest beneath the trees the one whom guides the dead. And he is but asleep for a time, until he is awoken by one who seeks help.


End file.
